


Runaway

by Tenzoh



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Prompto Spoilers, M/M, no beta we die like men, with Lunyx as a minor pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:57:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenzoh/pseuds/Tenzoh
Summary: Prompto realizes that he no longer holds a place in Noctis’ new life as the King, so he runs away.But Noctis won’t allow that.-----AU in which the glaives succeeded in defending Insomnia from the invasion of the Empire, King Regis and Luna did not die, the crystal remained secured, and the war with Niflheim is yet to be resolved.Or that in which Noctis cannot make a choice, so Prompto makes one for the both of them.





	1. When one door closes

It’s supposed to be a good day.

Of course, it is the long-awaited day of Insomnian citizens—the royal wedding of Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum with his betrothed, the Oracle, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret.

Of course, everyone is rejoicing, well, everyone is hoping that the wedding is one of the many steps in bringing peace in the Kingdom of Lucis and conquering the Empire of Niflheim.  Such many steps include the ascension of Prince Noctis to the throne as the king chosen by the Astrals and using their blessings to finally defeat the Empire and the Accursed.  There are yet so many things to do, yes, however, after the Prince and his crownsguards were able to obtain all the Royal arms and the favors of the five astrals in almost half a year of a journey, the wedding seems to be a milestone for everyone.

Of course, everyone, except for _one._

He thought, maybe, that he should be included in among _everyone._ He thought, at least, but feelings are _hard_.  So even if everyone’s happy for the wedding day, he could not bring himself to join the bandwagon, simply because the one getting married is the man he loved to somebody else that is not _him._

He knew this day would come.  Each day during their journey, he had been constantly reminded that one purpose of their journey is to save Lady Luna so Prince Noctis could marry her.  It’s something straight out of a fairytale, really, in which the Prince gets to rescue the princess, they get married, and they live happily ever after.  So now, this day, they will be having their happy-ever-after, and Prompto Argentum has no place in that.

He always knew that this day would come, but nothing has prepared him for this.

Nothing.

 _Nothing will really change, right?_ Prompto keeps telling himself.  _It’s just Noct getting married.  He’s just the only person you loved._

 

“Heyaz,”  Prompto greets as he peeks through the slightly opened door.

“Hey,” Noctis answers without looking at Prompto as he busies himself fixing the black silk ribbon on his neck in front of the tall floor mirror.

“Uh, may I come in?”

“Duh.  Get over here, I need help with this thing.”

Prompto complies, rolling his eyes as he walks towards his best friend.  He doesn’t want to comment on how gorgeous Noctis looks in his black wedding suit, his hair mostly slicked back allowing only a few strands to fall on his forehead and on the sides of his face.  Not yet.

“Come here,” Prompto says, placing a light tap on Noctis’ shoulder to make him face him.

“What the hell?  You’re not even dressed yet!”  Noctis exclaims the moment he faces Prompto.

“Duuude, the ceremony will be like in four hours!?”  Prompto replies as he fixes the other end of the ribbon over the other.  “Dressing up will only take me a good five minutes.”

“Whatever.  Just don’t make a ruckus on being late in the ceremony.”

At that moment, he thinks that it is a bad decision to be facing Noctis this close, so he tries to fixate his sight on the ribbon—black ribbon with white lines that match those that run on the length of Noctis’ sleeve—to avoid making eye contact with him.  He can only hope that Noctis won’t notice the trembling of his hands as he snatches the tiny brooch away from Noctis’ hand which is supposed to hold the ribbon in place. 

Well, placing that brooch without messing up the perfect placing of the ribbon apparently takes a great deal of patience.  When silence comes between them, Noctis looks like he wants to say something but only comes as far as to open his mouth, only to hesitate and end up saying nothing.  Prompto notices it, of course, but doesn’t comment on it.  He himself wanted to say something too—well, a lot of things—though he came in that room not knowing exactly where to begin.  He is somehow thankful that Noctis doesn’t say anything yet.

“There! You look _gooooood.”_ Prompto says as he playfully shoves Noctis’ shoulders and takes a few steps backward to put a good distance between them.  Noctis checks the mirror and sees that Prompto managed to place the ribbon neatly.  When he turns to Prompto, the youngest is now holding his camera and is looking through the viewfinder.  As if on cue, the Prince poses nonchalantly and the shutter clicks.

“The likes!”  Prompto says, smiling as he is looking at the display of the camera.  Noctis couldn’t help but smile, too.

“What do you think?” he asks Prompto.

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need—You.  Look.  Good.”

“No, not me.  What do you think about… everything.”

Prompto looks up to Noctis, and sees his expression.  He knows that the Prince is expecting an answer.

“Well, everyone’s busy,”  Prompto answers as he looks away and sits on the nearby couch. “Seems like the whole world’s watching.”

“Uh-huh,”  Noctis says as he takes a seat on the chair opposite to Prompto’s.

“And, in a few hours, you’ll get married!  In a few hours you will no longer be able to play video games and even Kings Knight.”

“Hey!  Who says I won’t be able to do stuff anymore?”

“Dude!  You’ll be _king!_  Kings don’t play videogames, sorry about that.”

Noctis lets out an exasperated sigh.  However, he is thankful that he could still talk to Prompto like this, even if it’s still unclear what’s between the two of them.  They had sort of like an unspoken arrangement, but there is always this invisible line that they are careful not to tread into.

“What about you?  What are you gonna do, afterwards?”  he still asks anyway.

“I… I don’t know,”  Prompto answers honestly.  Really, he doesn’t know.  After all this time living his life with Noctis, _for_ Noctis, he no longer knows the life without him.  “I mean, Ignis will be your Advisor, Gladio your Shield.  As for me, I don’t know what I’ll be yet.”

“Well… You _are_ my best friend,”  Noctis says, holding Prompto’s gaze in place.  Prompto knows that their conversation eventually leads to _this,_ but that doesn’t make him less unprepared. 

He still remembers the time when he used to be overjoyed every time Noctis tells him that they’re best friends.  But those days were long gone, and now, the hearing those words from Noctis makes his heart ache so much that he wants to run out and scream.

“Yeah.  I am,”  he still says nonetheless, his gaze unwavering, even if he is about to choke on his own words and his watery eyes may give him away any moment now.

But best friends don’t kiss and sleep with each other, especially when they were on a journey to save the fiancé that one of them is about to wed.

What Noctis said is lame, dumb, pathetic, and he himself knows that very well.  They’ve crossed _that_ line over a year ago, and right now Noctis is practically telling Prompto to forget that they ever did.  It may not be fair, for Prompto at least, but it is the rightest decision Noctis can make, for the sake of his marriage to Luna, for his father and the people of Lucis.

The two of them didn’t really get the chance, nor courage, to sit down and talk about it for once, and maybe now’s also not the right time to talk about it.    But Prompto, he… he’s a mess.  He’s trying to figure _everything_ out, specifically how he will fit into Noctis’ new life.  He knows it’s futile to have this conversation with Noctis since nothing will gonna change anything.  Since Noctis cannot—and will not—do anything but marry Luna and follow the life that the Astrals had laid out for him.

“Prompto, I—you know that—damn, this isn’t coming out right,”  Noctis tries to explain and lets out a heavy sigh as he fails.

“It’s okay Noct,” Prompto cuts him off.   “You don’t have to say anything.”  Well, maybe he has to, they actually both need to, but Prompto knows what Noctis is about to say and he doesn’t want to hear it.

“I… better get going now,”  he says as he stands up and head for the door.  “I’ll see you later.”

Noctis fights the urge to reach for Prompto’s hand, pull him, hold him in a tight embrace, kiss him, and tell him that everything will be alright.  “Yeah.  I’ll see you at the ceremony,” he says instead.

Prompto gives a final wave at Noctis before exiting the door and closing it behind him.  The moment the door clicks, the tears that Prompto had managed to keep from falling finally form rivulets down his face.  He covers his mouth to prevent his sobs from escaping and walks away from the door, down the empty hallway.  His knees feel weak that he had to brace himself on the wall to prevent himself from falling down on his knees.

This is where it ends, right?  He knows, from the start, that this moment will come one way or another.  He knows that at the end, that going back to being a best friend is the only way he could stay with Noctis.  He knows, but that doesn’t lessen any of the pain he’s feeling right now.

It just hurts, and no amount of reason can heal him.

\----------

Ignis hurries down the short alleyway that leads toward a corner a few blocks away from the Citadel.  It has been fifteen minutes since he had received the call from Prompto telling him to meet him there.  Prompto did not tell him the full details, but by the tone of Prompto’s voice, something’s wrong and so Ignis did not bother to ask about it over the phone.  But still, less than an hour and a half before the wedding ceremony that the whole Insomnia had been waiting for, Ignis had to fight for a window time to leave the hassle of the preparations in order to meet Prompto.

He turns at the corner and sees a man wearing a black jacket and a beanie, straddling an unfamiliar black motorcycle.  Ignis does not recognize the man immediately until he sees the blond locks that fall on the side of his face.

“Prompto,”  Ignis calls out while walking towards him.  “What in Eos is this about?”

Prompto doesn’t answer until Ignis reaches him.  “I’m leaving, Iggy,” although he knows it is quite obvious.

“You certainly are, and I doubt you will be able to make it back in time for the ceremony.”  Ignis takes a better look at Prompto and sees the large bag securely strapped on the tail of the motorcycle in addition to the backpack on Prompto’s back.  Ignis’ mind is racing through a lot of questions, but begins with “Where are you going?”

“I’m actually not sure where, but… I’m moving out of Insomnia.”

That, indeed, explains the amount of baggage Prompto has with him.  “Why?”

“I… I thought I could do it, Iggy,”  Prompto’s expression suddenly shifts to a pained one, although he tried to hide it with a smile, and it is only then that Ignis notices the swelling on the younger one’s eyes even as he averts his gaze.  “Stay by his side, be happy for him like good friends do.  That’s what I should do, right?  But seeing him this morning… wearing that wedding suit… it’s just…”

Prompto looks down his knees before turning to Ignis.

“It’s just more than I can take, you know?”  Prompto manages to say, although his voice broke and tears began falling once again.

Ignis only needs to hear that much and he already understands.  After all, if there’s anyone that had witness their love affair unfolded, it was Ignis.  In fact, a couple of times Ignis had warned Prompto that such relationship with Noctis would hurt Prompto the most.  Back then, he was determined to make the two young men break it off before they get hurt any further, but right now, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Prompto. 

“Does Noct know anything about this?”  Prompto shakes his head as he wipes his tears using the back of his gloved hands.  Ignis thinks that it actually makes sense, otherwise Noctis would have thrown a fit already knowing that Prompto will be leaving.  “Is there anything I can do, Prompto?”

Prompto fumbles on his pocket and takes out a voice recording device.

“You’re the only one I could trust with this,” he says as he hands over the voice recorder to Ignis.  “You know when to give that to Noctis.  But if you think it’ll be better not to, then it’s okay.  Don’t worry, that’s just me saying goodbye to him.”

“You can trust me,” Ignis assures him as he carefully places the recorder in his suit’s inner pocket.

“Thanks, Iggy.”  Prompto reaches for the handlebars, kicks the side stand and brings the engine roaring to life.  “So, uh.  This is goodbye.  For now, at least.  Tell Gladio I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to him in person.”

“I will certainly be grateful if you would send me a short message the moment you’ve settled down.  And please, take good care of yourself out there.”

“I will.  Thanks again, Iggy.”

“So long, Prompto.  You will be missed.”

And before he changes his mind and his determination wavers, Prompto drives away.  Ignis could only look as he does, wishing Prompto the best wherever the road takes him, although he’s feeling sad to lose a good friend.

\----------

_Where is Prompto?_

It is the question which had been bugging Noctis for quite a while, especially now that the prince’s entourage are about to march to the altar.  Ignis, Gladio and his father Clarus are there next to King Regis in the front of the formation, followed by Nyx Ulric—now the captain of the Kingsglaive—and other several Crownsguard.  The Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard are wearing their formal attire, and Noctis imagines that Prompto will be _gorgeous_ wearing such outfit.  But since their conversation this morning, Noctis has searched for Prompto among the crowd, as far as his sight can reach, but he hadn’t caught a glimpse of his best friend.  He had tried calling him on his phone, of course, until there’s about twenty failed calls registered on the log and not a single one went through.

Noctis, who is situated behind the formation, attempts to catch Ignis’ attention.  When he thinks he does, he mouths Prompto’s name, knowing that the Advisor will understand what he means.  Ignis sees him, Noctis is sure, but Ignis just nods as if saying _Focus, Noct._

He is not satisfied by the answer, however, the wedding officiant calls for the entourage, signaling the start of the ceremony.

\----------

Right after the newlyweds showed up on the steps of the Citadel to be greeted by the cheering crowd, Noctis immediately slips from his company and chases after Ignis whom he sees walking into the hallway leading to the banquet hall. 

“Where the hell is Prompto?  You know where he is, right?  Don’t tell me he’s gone too busy with something that he forgot the time of my wedding?”  Noctis barrages Ignis with questions the moment he reaches him.

“Calm down, Your Highness.  I assure you I will be answering your questions but right now your presence is required on _Queen_ Lunafreya’s side.”

That’s right, Luna.  _Queen_ Luna.  Thinking about it, he’s not sure how the whole ceremony went while he was desperately searching for Prompto among the crowd during the ceremony.  Everything was blurry—the march, the walk of the bride to the altar, the _kiss_ —as if he was on autopilot. 

“We’ll talk right after the wedding party ends.  Now if you would excuse me, Your Highness.”  Ignis bows before him—which he thinks he should get used to now that he’s the king—before walking away.  Noctis stands there for a good minute before turning back to where Luna may be.

Meanwhile, Gladio overhears the whole conversation between the two but did not interfere.  He instead approaches Ignis who resumes walking towards the hall.

“What’s the deal, Iggy?”  Gladio asks, matching the pace of the Advisor.

“He left,”  Ignis answers with remorse.

“Left? To where?”

“He did not say.  But I’m certain he’s just left Noctis’ life.”

“Oh shit, he didn’t?”

“He did.  And I just let him leave like that.”

\----------

As expected, the wedding party is nothing but a tiring series of fake smiles and greetings with the nobleman and distinguished families of Insomnia.  So Noctis is very thankful when he finally gets to take the seat at the banquet table for the newlyweds.  Luna immediately follows and takes the seat next to Noctis.

Now that he’s no longer distracted, his thoughts wander to Prompto again.  He is still annoyed that Ignis won’t tell him anything, even Gladio who tried his best to dance around the subject when Noctis approached him minutes ago.  Noctis takes his phone out to see if there are any messages from Prompto, he hopes, but the numerous unread messages only come from people he doesn’t actually care about.  He puts his phone back on his pocket and lets out a heavy sigh.

“You seem restless since the beginning of the ceremony, Noct,” Luna asks.  “And I doubt it’s the ceremony itself which wears you out.”

“I—I’m sorry.  It’s just…”

“Prompto, is it?  I’ve never seen him around, either.”

“Yeah.  I don’t know where he is, Luna.  I cannot get a hold of him.”

“Do you want to search for him?”

“Yes!  I mean, no.  I—" Noctis stutters, almost panicking that Luna may think that Noctis prefers to be somewhere else.

“It’s okay, Noct.  Go on, do what you need to do,” Luna says with a smile, with all honesty and understanding that Noctis really needs right now.  She places her hand on one of Noctis’.

“Thank you, Luna,” Noctis says as he places his other hand on Luna’s, giving it a light squeeze before he stands and rushes out of the hall.

 

He casually runs past anyone who tries to greet him and heads for the elevator.  He doesn’t sure where exactly to go, but he wants to start with Prompto’s room. 

It only takes him a couple of minutes to reach the door to Prompto’s room.  Not surprisingly, the door is unlocked as Noctis lets himself in and flicks the light switch by the door.

The first thing he sees is the formal Crownsguard uniform hanging on a dress form standing on his right, next to the wall-length windows.  It is the one that Prompto’s supposed to wear in the ceremony if he had been there.  He turns around to further scan the room and notices the black device on Prompto’s bed.  Oh how could he not recognize it—it was the present he had given Prompto on his 18th birthday.

Panic immediately rushes in as he grabs his phone and dials Ignis.  It only takes a ring and the Advisor picks up.

“Where are you, Noct?”  Ignis asks the moment the call goes through.

“I-I’m in Prompto’s room!” Noctis stutters, hastily pacing back and forth.  “His suit is still here.  His camera’s still here.  That guy never leaves his camera around—Iggy something might have happened to him!”

“Noctis, calm down.  Let me talk to you first.  I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I am _tired_ of being calm, Ignis!” At this point, Noctis’ is practically shouting, his voice echoes throughout the empty room.  “Tell me what’s going on, goddammit!”

“I assure you I’ll tell you everything I know once I get there.  Don’t do anything drastic.”

Noctis ends the call.  Once more, he tries to call Prompto.  His patience is wearing thin, but he listens to the third, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth ring, and still no one picks up.  He smashes the phone right on the floor, bouncing off until it has broken into a few pieces.

He sits on the edge of the bed as he tries to catch his breath.  _Where the hell are you, Prompto?_ He lets his face fall into his palms but doesn’t linger too long as he stands and heads towards the closet at the wall on the other side of the bed.  The closet doors fly open to reveal only the two sets of garments inside: one is Prompto’s Crownsguard uniform, the other is his Kingsglaive uniform.  Aside from the two uniforms, the closet is empty.  He is sure that a few days ago, Prompto had unpacked a bag of his clothes as he planned to settle in.

_Could it be?_

The door clicks open and Ignis steps inside. 

“Where is he?  Why are you not telling me what you know?  Why are his stuff mostly gone?”  Noctis confronts Ignis as he paces towards the Advisor, fast.

“Prompto… He left Insomnia on his own accord,” Ignis answers, holding Noctis’ gaze in place.

“What?  To where?  Why _now,_ of all times?”

“He did not say where he’s off to, but he made it clear that he will not be coming back.”

 _Not coming back?_  The words ring harshly on Noctis’ ears.

“What are you saying?  Why is he not coming back? He would not do that!”

“I’m sorry, Noct.  He’s gone.”

“No, it can’t be!”  Noctis shouted, his breathing a struggle, his vision dark, his blood runs cold.  He almost stumbles backward as his knees feel weak and finds refuge on the edge of bed where he sits.  He rubs his eyes with his hands which eventually both covers his mouth as he keeps mumbling “It can’t be” repeatedly. 

“And _you_ did not stop him?”  He finally says when he nearly comes back to his senses.

“I’m afraid I can’t.”

“Why?”  He stands up and faces Ignis, looking at him with a hint of resentment.

“Try putting yourself in his shoes,”  Ignis explains, trying to keep his composure.  “He was once your lover and now he is supposed to witness your marriage with Queen Lunafreya.  What do you think it would make him feel?”

“That’s stupid.  He knows it’s stupid, we all know that’s stupid!  He said that it’ll be okay, he said he understands, he said…”

For a moment, Noctis is at a loss for words.  Ignis is about to place a hand on his shoulder when the king says, “I’ll order the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive to search for him.” 

“Don’t do that, Noct.”  Ignis knows that expression of Noctis is the one he wears when he’s dead set on something.

“I will,”  Noctis scowls as he walks past Ignis.

“He made a choice because you can’t, Noctis!”  This time, it’s Ignis’ turn to snap.  He grabs Noctis by his upper arm, his grip tight.  “You _cannot_ choose him.  As long as you are the Chosen King, you will not be able to.  You’ll just end up hurting him!”

For a moment only their heavy breaths enveloped the room until Noctis forcefully frees his arm from Ignis’ grip.

“I suggest you let him go,”  Ignis says, his composure regained.  “Let him move on with his life.  And you… You are now the king.  You must focus on your duties.”

Once again, Noctis sits at the edge of the bed.  His fists are still clenched, breathing still heavy.  Ignis walks up to him and takes out the voice recorder from his suit’s inner pocket.

“He asked me to give this to you before he left,”  Ignis says as he hands over the device to Noctis.  “Listen to it whenever you are ready.”

Without further ado, Ignis walks out of the room and closes the door behind him.

Noctis turns on the device with his trembling hands and sees in the display that there’s only one voice file.  He plays it.

_Hey, Noct._

It’s Prompto’s voice.  It definitely is.

_I… uh… Damn this is awkward._

_I’m sorry for not being able to say this to you in person but… Yeah, I guess you heard from Ig.  I’m sorry that I wasn’t there in your wedding even though I said I’ll be there._

_I… I just wanted to say thank you for… for everything.  Thank you for being my friend, and even after you knew that I was not born in Lucis, that I was from Niflheim, that I have this who-knows-what-it-means barcode in my wrist… You still accepted me._

_I’m sorry, Noct.  I’m sorry…_

Noctis could tell from Prompto’s voice that at that point in the record, he’s trying to hold back his sobs.

_Goodbye._

Then there’s a click, and the record ends.

He walks to the windows and stands in front of the dress form which holds Prompto’s formal Crownsguard attire.  He fists the collar of the uniform, his knuckles white as he clenches hard and punches the dress form without knocking it over.  It is then when he felt the wetness on his cheeks as his tears unceremoniously fall down.

“You said… You said you’d stay ever at my side…”

It’s supposed to be a good day, but he just lost the person he loved the most.


	2. Better to have loved and lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received some nice comments for the first chapter, you guys are soooo sweet! Thanks!

It was an ordinary day.

Well, by ordinary, it used to mean that Noctis would go to school by morning, sleep through some of his classes, kill time in the arcade after school, go home to play some more videogames, then hit the hay and damn homework.  Three years ago, it would have been just him alone, but Prompto—Prompto had simply waltzed into his life and became an integral part of Noctis’ ordinary day like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Both of them were on Noctis’ apartment that day, playing a dumb two-player fighting videogame that Prompto was very gung-ho on playing.  Noctis thought it was dumb, especially when he was on a losing streak in favor of Prompto.

“Argh, let’s stop this,” Noctis sighed, lightly tossing the controller on the coffee table on their knees.

“Aww, come on, dude!?”  Prompto said though he was about to hum the victory fanfare.  It was his ninth victory that night.

“This is dumb.  This game is dumb.”

“You’re saying that ‘coz you haven’t won a single match against _me._ ”

Noctis just rolled his eyes and slouched.  Prompto’s face showed that he thought it was hopeless, so he turned off the console and put the controller down.

“Ok, so… it’s time to study!”

“Argggh,” Noctis groaned.

“Come on, we’ve got exams next week.”

“Key word: next week.”

“Dude!?  Ignis is gonna kill me for this!”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Nooooct.”

Noctis pulled Prompto to sit closer to him and let his head fall on Prompto’s shoulder.  This, apparently, had been one of their _normals—_ sitting on the couch with one of them had both legs resting over the other’s thighs, sleeping to wake up on a mess of tangled limbs, simply basking on the comfortable heat of one another.

He had always found comfort in the way Prompto touched him, putting his mind at ease that no matter how much life shits at him, there will always be Prompto.  It made him feel warm and secure—in a much more different way than the security that Ignis and Gladio gave him—a feeling that nobody had given him before.

Such touches, for Noctis, were sufficient and frustratingly lacking at the same time.  It was like he thought that simple touches would be enough to assure him, supposedly, that he and Prompto had _this_ particular bond that they do not share with anyone else.  But at the same time, whenever he touched him, there was this uncomfortable feeling of longing, of wishing for something _more,_ as if he knew that there should be more than this.

“You falling asleep on me, dude?  We’re so not gonna finish anything tonight.”

Noctis gently lifted his head from his best friend’s shoulder, but the loss of contact was immediately compensated as he brought up his hand to the freckled cheek.  Prompto trembled slightly, Noctis could tell, but did not withdraw from the touch nevertheless, blue eyes locking gaze with another pair of blue eyes. 

He ran his fingers, gently, on his hair, until they were helplessly tangled with the blond locks.  He wasn’t sure if everyone’s hair were supposed to be _this_ soft, and neither was he interested to know, because he was sure that Prompto’s the only one he wanted to touch like this.

Noctis leaned forward, finally, effectively closing the small distance between their lips.  That was the time when he learned, at last, that maybe this was the thing that he was missing all along.

Despite the awkward angle and pressure—blame it to the fact that it was their _first_ —it was great, it was magical, or maybe it was just absolutely _perfect_.  The chaste press of their lips lasted less than a minute, but ones that followed immediately right after lasted much longer, each more urgent than the last.

They stopped only when the need to actually breathe arose, but neither of them moved away to put an inch of a distance between them.  Instead, they pressed their foreheads together, both of them smiling and giggling sheepishly, their ragged breaths mingling.

For Noctis, it was just an ordinary day, as ordinary as the next ones to come, since nothing between the two of them actually needed to change—okay so maybe the kisses, messy make-out sessions and _sex_ were an addition to their routine—but the two of them just simply needed to be _the two of them_.

It was also like the most natural thing in the world.

\---------

Prompto wished it would be one of his ordinary days with Noctis.

He wanted to go home—if he could still call it _home_ when the people he cared about were not there waiting for him—but Noctis told him to stay and wait for him to come back as he hurriedly went out of the apartment as soon as Ignis came to fetch him, for reasons he was yet to tell him.  He could have deliberately disobey Noctis’ words and go outside, but the news and social media were never silent on what the actual ruckus was all about.

It was a little past noon when Prompto heard the lock clicked and Noctis treaded down the hallway to the bedroom, through the door that was left ajar.  Prompto felt the bed dip as Noctis sat on the other side of the bed.

“I… heard,” Prompto said but did not move an inch from where he was lying on Noctis’ bed sideways, facing the window, his back turned to Noctis. “It’s all over the news.” 

“Yeah,” Noctis said as he struggled to let the word out from his throat.

“I guess this is the point where I need to say ‘Congrats on your engagement, buddy.’”

“Prom… it’s not like that.”

“Not like _what?_ ” Prompto finally propped himself on his elbow, looking over to Noct.  Something about Prompto’s expression made Noctis’ heart sink. 

“That thing with Luna… It’s a political thing, you know?” Noctis tried to explain, nevertheless.  “It’s obviously something that those Imperial bastards came up with just to mess with us.”  Prompto did not answer; he simply did not know what to say.  He knew that Luna always had a special place in Noctis’ heart, the two of them being childhood friends.  Of course, Luna had been a good friend to Prompto, too, and he could tell by the few letters they had exchanged that Luna also held Noctis close to her heart.  If anything, he thought, he could be the one who’s getting in the way of the two.

“Hey.  It’s not like anything’s gonna change between us,” Noctis said as he scooted closer to Prompto and placed a hand over his, intertwining their fingers, an action which spoke _Don’t worry, it will be okay_.

Prompto was about to retaliate and protest—what did Noctis mean by _us_ anyway?  All this time—a bit over a year since their first kiss—they refused to put an end to the ambiguity of their relationship.  No promises were made, nothing between them was as sweet as a prince and a princess getting engaged and eventually married. 

He was about to say something but instead, he let Noctis kiss him, and he kissed back, and their hands wandered to every inch of skin they could find.  He was about to say something but his mind was in a haze, senses overloaded, clothes totally discarded, the feeling of bare skin against skin made them think of nothing else but that very moment.  Noctis took almost every opportunity to kiss Prompto—his lips, the trail from his jaw down to his shoulder blade—as he let himself be consumed by the tight heat that was Prompto, until they came undone, bodies melting against one another.

He was about to say something but no words would do justice, so instead, he let his tears fall.  Noctis also did not say anything but kissed his tears away as he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer, so gently, so lovingly, as if he was screaming _I love you_ over and over again.

\----------

Apparently, it was very difficult to hide a romantic relationship with someone when you’re on a road trip with three people including _that someone_.  However, it may not be that _very_ difficult if Noctis would only stop taking advantage of every moment that Ignis and Gladio were looking away to lay his hands on Prompto, ranging from pecks on the cheek to urgent make-out sessions.

If they thought Ignis would not have a clue what was going on, they should have known better.

“Prompto.  Stop doing that,”  Ignis said, which was very different from his usual polite.  They were inside the camper RV, Prompto was helping Ignis to prepare dinner, while Noctis and Gladio were chatting outside.  It was a command, an order, something that demands absolute compliance.

“Doing what?”  Prompto asked, pretending to be innocent of what Ignis was referring to—although he definitely knew what it was.

“That _thing._ Between you and Noct.” It was as if Prompto was splashed with a bucket of cold water, color immediately drained from his face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Prompto said, looking away, trying to dismiss the conversation with a smile.

“He’s getting married to Lady Lunafreya.  He will not be able to choose you.  He simply can’t.”

He wanted to tell Ignis that he knew that very well, that he trusted Noctis and that he knew better than Noctis throwing him aside.  But he didn’t, because at the back of his mind there was always this uncertainty, this nagging feeling that Noctis’ heart wasn’t Prompto’s to keep. 

\----------

It was clear that the Empire had breached the terms of the cease fire agreement when they attempted to launch an attack to Insomina on the day the peace treaty was about to be signed.  If not for Nyx—now named as Captain Ulric of the Kingsglaive—who had discovered Titus Drautos’ treachery, defeated him and saved the Oracle before the party from the Empire arrived, Insomnia may have suffered from more damage and more lives may have been taken.  Technically, the offer of signing the peace treaty no longer stood, so was the Empire’s condition of marriage between the Oracle and the Prince of Lucis.

But Noctis’ dad—no other than the King of Lucis—expected the wedding to push through, nonetheless.  According to him, it would boost the morale of the people of Lucis to witness their beloved Oracle to be the queen, and at the same time may earn the favor of the government of Accordo to form alliance with Lucis.

 

It was the night before they were about to board the boat that Cid was able to fix for them and set sail to Altissia.

“Prompto… about the two of us,” Noctis said, fidgeting with his thumbs, not even attempting to meet Prompto’s gaze.  It was just the two of them, about to head back to the house after they checked out the boat beneath the lighthouse.  Prompto stopped on his tracks to face Noctis, his expression inquiring.  “It’s just… When we get to Altissia, it’s only a matter of time before… You know?  Only a matter of time before we see Luna.”

Oh. _Oh._ So this was the end, Prompto thought, the inevitable that they only prolonged during this trip.

“I—I understand.  I know what you mean,”  Prompto said though he knew it was a _lie—_ he knew what Noctis meant, but cannot _understand_ in the way he was expected to _._ He just wanted the conversation to be over, he did not want to hear any more of Noctis’ words, may they be words of comfort or utter ejection.

“So yeah.  I’m… sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize.”

That’s the way it is, right? That’s the way it should be.  He should have listened to Ignis.  But if he did, would it still hurt all the same?

“I’m heading back inside,” Prompto finally said as he took a step away from Noctis, averting his gaze in fear that tears may fall at any moment.

“Prompto, I—" Noctis motioned to reach for Prompto’s hand but failed to do so.

“It’s okay, Noct.  I’m fine,” Prompto said, stepping away to put more distance between them and subtly waving both his hands in front of him as if he was telling Noctis not to touch him and not to come any closer.  “Don’t worry about me.”

 

Prompto did say that he was heading back inside but, when Noctis went inside the house (they called it Hidden Getaway, but it’s nothing but a run-down farm house that was still standing thanks to Cid who occasionally dropped by to check on it), only Ignis, Gladio and Cid were there.  All of them commented that Prompto was yet to come back and were surprised that Noctis was not with him. 

Noctis should be looking for Prompto—daemons were already spawning at such time of the day after all—but Noctis was, well, a self-confessed idiot.  He preferred to go upstairs instead, as he was more concerned on the awkwardness between them as a result of their latest conversation.  He could say that he was giving Prompto the _space_ he needed, of course, but the truth was that he had no face to show Prompto after hurting him like _that._

He thought he could sleep through it all, just like he’d always done.  But only after a couple of hours of shut-eye, he was roused from his slumber, only to find that the lights were already turned off, save for the dim wall lamps.  After rubbing sleep away from his eyes, he saw Ignis and Gladio already settled on their respective beds, but Prompto’s bed next to Noctis’ was still empty.

He was about to panic as he sat up when saw the blonde lying on the couch, facing the wall, his head propped up on the armrest.  He wanted to grab the blanket and drape them over Prompto, or carry him to bed so he could sleep more comfortably.  He was about to, really, but it suddenly hit him that he no longer has the right to do so—he lost such right when he basically told Prompto that everything was over.  He fucked it up, he’s hurt Prompto, and now Prompto did not even want to be near him.

He lied back on his bed and pulled the cover over his head.  He shut his eyes tightly, wishing for sleep to dawn upon him as fast as possible so he could no longer feel the painful throbbing on his chest.

 

The next morning, he woke up to an empty room, with a headache which was probably due to the fact that he hadn’t got enough sleep last night.  It made his headache even worse when he thought that he should have a proper talk with Prompto, as if he had finally reflected on the last night’s conversation.  He probably didn’t need to ask Ignis to realize that last night was a blunder and that he and Prompto still needed a proper talk.

As soon as he stepped out of the room he was greeted by the smell of breakfast that Ignis was cooking.  He saw the rest of the group—Gladio, Cid, and _Prompto—_ settled at the large dining table.  He went downstairs to join them.

“Good morning,” he said, mostly to Prompto, trying his best to act normally, but his mind’s screaming _don’t make this more awkward you idiot._

“Back at ya,” Prompto immediately replied after a yawn, as casual and as _normal_ as he could be, to Noctis’ surprise.

Just like _nothing_ happened.

It made his chest ache, fists clenched in a ball, but it got him thinking that maybe...

Maybe Prompto will be okay.

\----------

\----------

The sun is up, high enough for a few of its rays to reach Noctis’ eyes through the windows whose curtains he forgot to draw last night.  He squints, trying to fight the intrusive light as he faces the other way and pulls the comforter over his head.  He wants to sleep more, of course, that’s what he’s always wanted, especially when the phantom headache still hurts him unforgivingly as he remembered yesterday’s events.

His body feels heavy, his eyes are sore, but he still pulls himself up to sit.  He realizes that he spent the night in Prompto’s room, though he’s not sure in the first place when did he fall asleep.  He’s still wearing the white dress shirt that goes underneath the suit, while the suit itself and the dark vest had been carelessly discarded on the floor, together with the ribbon that Prompto had put on for him.

He gets up, grabs Prompto’s camera and shoves it in its respective bag, and takes it with him as leaves the room.

It is his first day as the King, after all.

\----------

“Iggy,” Gladio says the moment he barges into Ignis’ office.

“I suppose it is something worth the rude entry to my office,” Ignis comments, but his attention remains on whatever document on his table he’s working on. 

“I got a word from Nyx,” Gladio walks towards Ignis in a hastened pace.  “Noct— _King_ Noctis just gave a direct order to the Kingsglaive without the Captain’s knowledge.”

“May I know what particular order?”

“Order to track down Prompto,” Ignis finally lets go of his pen, takes a deep breath and lies back on his chair.  He looks up to Gladio, urging him to continue.  “There’s this order to all glaives stationed all over Lucis to keep an eye out for him.  Marshal said that the same order was given to Crownsguard without his prior consent, apparently.”

Ignis rubs his temple with a hand and lets out a heavy sigh.  “This is slightly getting out of hand, I fear.”

“Damn right it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is an AU where Insomnia did not fall, Iris, Talcott and others are not in Cape Caem. Just wanna put this here idk why  
>   
> This chapter is really intended for the flashbacks. In the next chapter we’ll have more of the plot and hopefully we’ll be able to know what Prompto’s up to outside Insomnia.  
>   
> Thank you for reading!


	3. A party of one

“Status of our defenses outside Insomnia,” the former king demands.  It is the first meeting of the royal council since Noctis has been named King of Lucis.

Aside from the Advisor, the Shield, the Marshal and the Captain of Kingsglaive, the former King is also present as he is supposed to observe the proceedings of the meeting—s _upposed to_ , but practically he is the one who presides the meeting.  The council may blame it to the newest king being _new,_ but everybody in the high-ceilinged meeting room has a clue on what’s up with the said king who is laid back on his chair on one end of the long rectangular table.  Still, nobody even bothers to comment on it.

The Marshal reports that the outposts of the Lucian forces already cover most of the strategic points in Lucis, and only a few are still under construction.  All outposts are already armed with heavy artillery and are all operational and capable of ground and aerial surveillance.  Nyx adds that majority of the Glaives had already been deployed to these outposts and are ready to take orders of attack and infiltration.

Next in the agenda is the condition of Tenebrae and its people.  As soon as the marriage between the then Prince of Lucis and the Princess of Tenebrae took place, the Kingdom of Lucis had issued a warning to the Empire that Tenebrae is now politically annexed to Lucis and any attack on Tenebrae will cause the Kingdom to retaliate.

It is mostly an empty threat, really, considering that Empire has the geographical advantage—it is much nearer than Lucis is to Tenebrae—and the crown forces deployed to protect the Queen’s home is obviously thin.

They also talk about Ravus who was not seen since the battle with the Leviathan, in which the Imperial army took a beating.  That being a reminder that they may have crippled the Imperial forces, Gladio suggests for Lucis to take advantage of the opportunity and attack the Empire instead of “being sitting ducks waiting for the enemy to recover.”  But the idea is immediately dismissed by the council, cognizant of the fact that the Kingdom has just recently moved from being _defensive_ to _ready for counterattack_.  They cannot risk sending all of their forces into an attack on an alien territory, not just yet.

For now, they have to wait for the report of the Glaives who are exploring strategic routes around the Empire.

King Regis then inquires on the stance of Accordo in forming an alliance.

“I’m afraid the governor of Altissia is still showing no signs of swearing allegiance to the crown, Your Majesty,” Ignis answers.  With merely four days as the King’s Advisor, he talks as if he’s done this job for years, nothing less of what is expected of Ignis Scientia.  “I regret that such aversion may be due to the damages we’ve caused the city as we’ve fought to obtain the favor of the Leviathan.”

“How are the reconstruction efforts in Altissia doing?”

“I assure you, Your Majesty, that we had already given them a hundred percent of financial and human resources that we have pledged.  I’m afraid we cannot go beyond that as we are stretching our resources for our own rehabilitation efforts in Insomnia.”

“That’s enough for now.  But still, we won’t stop pleading the government of Accordo to form alliance with us.  Let them know that we are willing to lend them our forces should the Empire lay hands on them.”

The last highlight of the meeting is Nyx informing the council on his intention to stay outside the walls of the city.  He says that he wanted to personally oversee the outposts and to be physically present in the front lines should an attack occur.  It takes a moment for the rest of the council to consider, but they knew that Nyx is the type to do dirty work instead of merely giving orders, so they let him go.

As the discussion of some other matters continues, Ignis shoots a glance at the direction of the new King.  He sees Noctis staring at the council blankly, still laid back on his chair, his chin resting on his knuckles, elbow propped on the armrest.  Ignis recognizes that look, of intense boredom, of outright disinterest.  A couple of years ago he would have dismissed it as a typical teenage behavior—or typical _Noctis_ behavior, to be exact—but right now, Noctis is the _King,_ and such conduct is simply unacceptable. 

Ignis glances at the former King and as if by divine intervention, their gazes lock and communicate that they certainly share the same thoughts about Noctis, so maybe Ignis will be spared of the duty of reminding Noctis to focus.  Well maybe that does not entirely eliminate his need to talk to Noctis later on, but a good reprimand from His Majesty may do Noctis good, Ignis thinks.

And as expected, as soon as the meeting is concluded, Regis asks everyone to leave him with Noctis.  And of course, Noctis sees it coming.

“You need to focus, Noct,” Regis begins.  He stands up, carefully, his knee is just not getting any better.  He goes over to the side table where a wine bottle and a couple of wine glasses are readied and pours the drink for two.  “You are now the King, and I am merely here to see through the proper turnover of my duties to you.”

Regis places a half-filled glass on the table in front of Noctis and stands by the tall window.  “Once I had completed the transfer of the powers of the Crystal to you, I’m afraid I’ll be nothing but a retired old man.”

“I know, Dad,” Noctis replies, absentmindedly holding the stem of the glass.  Seriously, he cannot think of what else to say.  He admits that he’s been pretty fucked up these days, and they all know the reason why, and he doesn’t know what to do to be _not-fucked-up._  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s Prompto, isn’t it?” and so the father finally acknowledges the elephant in the room.

“I heard from your advisor and your shield as well,” Noctis remembers that his yesterday’s training with Gladio ended up a disaster.  He had no focus—that was a given—and after getting tossed and beaten around a few times he stroke Gladio by a great sword more violently than intended—and hell, the damage would be _fatal_ if not for Gladios evasive action.  It caused Gladio to yell a swear or two, walking away with a bleeding shoulder.  Gladio then swore not to talk to Noctis until the King “pulls his shit together.”

He actually does not see the purpose of the additional training, now that he’s confident with his skills himself.  But his father insists that he needs to be stronger in order to control the crystal’s magic, otherwise it’d be the one to control _him._

“I know it’s hard to lose a friend,” Regis continues after taking a sip from his glass. “But you need to consider that there are many things that warrant your attention.”

 _I know, Dad_.  Noctis mentally replies to his old man.  He is just tired of saying it again, and he knows that his Dad is equally tired of hearing it from him.

“We are at war, Noctis.”

 _I know, Dad_.

“The people of Lucis will never be safe as long as this war goes on.”

 _I know, Dad_.

“Your friend will be fine.  He’s a brave lad.”

Noctis wishes he could also say _I know, Dad,_ but it is something that he simply cannot easily agree to.

_No, he’s a coward.  He did run away._

\----------

“Can I have a word with you, Your Highness?” Ignis immediately calls Noctis’ attention as soon as the King emerges from the door of the meeting room.  Ignis knows it is quite improper to his tastes, ambushing the King like this, but he thinks he will not be able to get a hold of Noctis other than this very moment.

“So after my old man, it’s your turn to scold me, _Mum_?” Noctis says as he turns to Ignis, shrugging his shoulders conspicuously.

Ignis arches his eyebrow, with full intentions to let Noctis know that he is not amused by the remark.

“Fine, get on with it.”

“It has come to my attention that you gave the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard a certain _direct order_ ,” Ignis goes directly to the point, his voice low as he intends to limit the conversation between the two of them.

“So what about it?  I’m the King now, and I am sure that doing so is nothing sort of abusive.”

“Yes, it certainly is, in some levels you may say.  But it is to the best of your knowledge that we are at war, and we cannot afford to bring the attention of our military forces into a matter that is rather personal to the King himself.  Do you agree?”

Noctis has his mouth agape, hesitating on what to answer.  He no longer wants to answer that question, because for fuck’s sake just a couple of minutes ago he was having the same conversation with his dad.  Because for a hundredth time he knows that they are at war and that his personal feelings should come last on the long list of things he needs to prioritize. 

“I will find him, Specs,” he says instead.  Really, it doesn’t matter to him now if Ignis agrees to it or not.  “I won’t sit here and do nothing until I get to make him say to my face everything he has to say.”

“I understand, Your Highness.  But need I remind you not to be too hasty in your actions.” 

“Hasty?  Do I have to wait till he goes missing for a _month_ before I actually do anything?”

“If I may ask, what are you going to do the moment you find him?” Ignis asks, his tone more imposing, more brazen.  “Would you bind his hands and feet?  Throw him in a cell, perhaps?  I do reckon that you shall be certain of what you really want before you hunt him down.  Otherwise, I’m afraid your brash actions will only make matters worse.”

Noctis is unable to answer, speechless, because Ignis is absolutely right.  If he sees Prompto, what would he do? 

“And for goodness’ sake, Noct.  You may have yet to consummate your marriage with the Queen—which I am certainly not interested in—but, please.  Do speak with her.”

With that statement Ignis excuses himself, leaving Noctis in a daze, because there’s the thing about Prompto, and he had almost neglected the fact that he is now married with Luna.  He couldn’t be even more fucked up, really.

\----------

Truth be told, up until now he is not certain of many things concerning his life.  For one, Nyx knows that many soldiers think that he is not _that_ deserving to be the Captain of the Kingsglaive, and he actually agrees to that.  But little do they know that he does not desire for such a position, for such power, unlike one of his fallen comrades who seriously eyed for it.  He just wanted to serve the crown with all his loyalty because he thinks that it’s the only way he can repay King Regis for his benevolence of giving him a home in Insomnia and—though it sounds cheap—a purpose to live.  He can definitely see himself dying serving that purpose and he would be more than willing to do so.

Seeing as he got the permission of the council, Nyx is on the way to his temporary quarters to prepare for his departure to Duscae tomorrow morning.  He walks down an empty hallway which is awfully long, similar to others—it is but empty until he sees a dog sitting in a distance.  As he walks nearer, he sees that his fur is black with white streaks that run on his legs and belly up to his muzzle.  He gazes at Nyx intently, not moving an inch.  “Whose dog could it be,” Nyx wonders.

When he approaches the dog, he stands up and walks away.  His pace is slow, which Nyx thinks is unusual, slow enough to match Nyx’s.  It is as if the dog’s expecting Nyx to follow him—which Nyx complied with—as he turns one corner, and another, until they reach an open door to the palace garden.

The garden is at the floor by which the building of the Citadel diverges into two towers connected by multiple bridges in between.  It does not cease to amaze Nyx on how the positioning of the two colossal towers enables them to cast the minimal shadow over the garden that is sandwiched by them, and it simply made the greenery thrive, the variety of flowers overwhelming, despite the monotonous concrete and mirrors surrounding.  And whoever thought of placing tall fountains in the middle of the garden is fantastic. 

The dog finally runs, and as soon as Nyx sets foot on the garden to follow, he is greeted by the breeze and the warm afternoon sunlight.  He sees the dog disappear behind a patch of small trees and bushes.  His curiosity let him check on where the dog has run off to.

There he sees the dog, sitting by the feet of a woman standing with a posture that could only belong to a lady raised in nobility.

The Queen turns around to Nyx, snapping him into consciousness.

“My Queen—Your Grace,” Nyx says as he bows down.

If Nyx would raise his head he would see Luna sighed at the gesture as she calls up to him.

“Oh Nyx.  Do not be a stranger to me, please.”

Nyx stands straight, kind of startled when he sees Luna close to him.

“You are the Queen now,” he says, smiling.  “I’ll be damned if I did not behave appropriately in the presence of royalty.”

Luna gestures for them to take a walk on the trail laid out by the cobblestone steps and Nyx follows suit.

“I’m delighted to see you doing well,” Luna says.

“I suppose you just came back from a trip.  You must be tired,” Nyx remarks, aware of the fact that she just came back from a small village at the northern part of Leide to do one of her duties as the Oracle, to heal people who are afflicted by the Starscourge.

“Thank you for the concern.  I feel fine.”

“By the way… You looked beautiful in your wedding,” Nyx comments, obviously trying to keep the conversation going.  “I mean, you always looked beautiful.”

Luna looks at him, so sudden that he thinks he’s said something which is uncalled for.

“Argh sorry, dammit that didn’t come out right.”  The last part is almost a murmur but he can tell that Luna heard it.

 _Good job for making it awkward, you idiot_ , he thinks, but then he hears Luna chuckle, contagiously so he laughs, too, until both of them are.

“But seriously, being Queen suits you,” he says after the soft laughter subsides.

“I must say, being the Captain of the Kingsglaive suits you, too,” Luna retaliates, with a smile so sly that Nyx would call it a smirk.

“Come on, don’t give me that.”

They continue down the trail, past a tall fountain.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you during the battle in Accordo,” Nyx says.

“Don’t be,” Luna replies.  “You did what you have to do for the people of Insomnia.”

“Well, uh, I’m afraid I’ll be away again.  I’ll be stationed outside the wall, at least until the war’s over.”  Nyx is unsure whether he needs to say that to Luna and somehow regrets doing so, seeing the shift in Luna’s expression as she turns to him after they both stop walking.

He waits for Luna to say something as she steps to close the distance between them, but instead, Luna cups Nyx’s face between her palms and brings his face closer—and closer—until their foreheads are pressed together. 

“I pray for the Astrals to guide your way, to grant you the strength to fulfill your quest,” she says, her eyes closed, her soft palms warm against Nyx’s cheeks.  Nyx thinks he should also close his eyes but doesn’t, because somehow he doesn’t want to miss _this_.

Nyx thought that he could live in this moment, forever, having Luna close like this, but it is one of the things he doesn’t deserve just like his position in the Kingsglaive.

Luna opens her eyes, they do not meet Nyx’s but he can tell that they are painted with despair.  Nyx wants to ask why, but he doesn’t, because he is more concerned that Luna is not letting go of his face, keeping him still.  He is tempted to reach for those hands, but thankfully before he can Luna withdraws them.

Nyx immediately looks around to search for prying eyes, but the tall and bushy plants lining up the perimeter of the garden proves quite disadvantageous.  He thinks that he may have survived the fight with Drautos but not the charges of treason if somebody were to see them like that—in a rather compromising position in an outsider’s perspective.

“Thank you.  You are really kind, you know?” Nyx says, already missing the closeness.

“I do not know if I am worthy of such compliment,” Luna frowns, and Nyx doesn’t pretend to understand why, because for all he care Luna is one of the few kindest persons he knew.  “I am not as kind as you think, Nyx.  Truly, I am not.”

Nyx is about to say something, but suddenly there is the presence of someone else.  Both of them turn to see the King of Lucis down the trail.

“Your Highness,” Nyx says, taking a bow for a moment not longer than necessary before looking at the couple and excusing himself courteously.  In that very moment he feels how he doesn’t belong there as he rushes to leave the garden, not even attempting to look back.  But if he would, he will see Luna’s gaze following him as he walks away.

 

As soon as Nyx disappears from sight, Luna turns to Noctis.  When she does, Noctis leans in, effectively closing the distance between their lips.

Noctis never thought that a kiss could be as pure, as bland as a mere brushing of lips, devoid of any passion nor desire, precisely because he had been kissing Prompto all his life.

When they part, Noctis expects a reaction from Luna, but instead, she places both her hands on his elbow as she pulls him to a walk.

“I would like to apologize for not being able to attend your first council meeting as the King,” Luna says, setting the pace.

“Don’t worry about it.  I know it’s not exactly easy being the Oracle.”

“Ours is never an easy path, indeed.” Luna does not look at Noctis.  “Certainly, we do face problems that are neither greater nor less than those of every mortal.

“But what makes us different is that, we walk our paths with a very vague distinction on whether such path is what we wanted, or what we thought the Astrals wanted for us.”  She stops walking, turning to face Noctis.  Their gazes lock, and for a moment of silence, the sound of the breeze is the only thing they can hear.  Her gaze is inquiring—or more like it is asking for an answer without giving a definitive question.  Noctis knows it, he feels it, he is _sure_ of it.  He just doesn’t know what to actually _say_.  Or maybe he knows a lot of things to say, but none of them would be true, and Luna doesn’t deserve any of that.

Luna places her hands on Noctis’ cheeks to press a kiss, not on his lips, but on his forehead.  It is warm, affectionate but definitely not the type of kiss you would give a lover, sincere unlike the half-assed kiss that Noctis gave her earlier.  The gesture let Noctis know that it is okay, maybe for now, to not have an answer, that Luna understands, and it makes Noctis feel a pang of guilt on his chest.

But Noctis is still grateful to her, nonetheless.

\----------

It is high in the afternoon, but in this part of Cleigne, the wind blows cold that one would even think that it is still early morning.

A few days since he left Insomnia, Prompto was still in the process of figuring out how to live alone.  It’s not like he was not used to live alone—during his childhood days their house had been always empty while his parents had worked in Accordo.  He’s heard that they took permanent residence there since the Empire had attacked Insomnia, and the last thing he’s had from them is a short phone call saying _we wish for your safety_ and nothing else.  He’s just grown too tired, maybe, that now he would not even think of calling them to say hi.

He used to be alone, for sure, until the Prince—now the King of Lucis—had taken up the greatest part on his life.  Ignis and Gladio also came along, until he had become totally accustomed to the company of others.  

But now, he’s back to being by himself due to a decision he had made himself—not that he regrets any of it, at least, not yet.  He knows that it will take some time figuring things out, especially finding out who he is without Noctis being at the center of his life.  It would be difficult, he knew, but he was determined nonetheless.

But maybe if he could have just watched the TV at the diner or viewed the uncut wedding coverage posted all over the internet, he would know of Noctis’ unease all throughout the ceremony.  It had been far from unease brought about by the nerves, definitely something brought about by intense worry of not seeing _someone_ he was supposed to see.  If Prompto had seen it, he definitely would have known that look on Noctis’ face, and maybe he would have known that he was not the only one getting through all of this.

 

He did not actually settle in this little town by optimum choice, it was just a place that the four of them had not visited during their roadtrip.  As it was rather unfamiliar, Prompto considered it a new place, one without memories of the four of them being together.  Maybe it would help him not to miss Noctis even more than he already does now.

So he got a bucket list of things to do.  First, he had to find a place to stay.  Camping was not an option, not for him, of course—not that he liked to pamper himself with soft beds, he just could not simply put up a tent by his own and cook himself a decent meal. 

He surveyed the low houses and two-storey buildings in the area and after an hour, came across a land lady who happened to be posting an apartment room for rent.  Prompto saw the place and considered it not too shabby—a studio with a size of about four by five meters, with a small toilet and shower, a make-shift kitchen, and a few furnishings including a single-sized bed, a tiny dining table and a chair.

Thinking that there could be no other room in the small settlement, he paid a week’s worth of lodging with a great portion of his money at hand. 

So next, he had to think of what to do for a living.  He wished he hadn’t left his camera behind so he could do a couple of photo snapping for Vyv, since the guy does not hold back paying a bunch of gil for a few photos.  Also, mobility won’t be an issue since he’s got his motorbike after all.  But now that he did not have his camera with him, he needed to think of other way.

He thought of hunting.  He wasn’t a bad fighter himself, that he can say with permission of his level of self-confidence.  With his remaining money he bought a few potions and a pair of _Enforcer_ hand guns, although they were not as great as the _Death Penalty_ he’s had in the armiger, he thought he would survive with those.  It’s not like he could no longer access the armiger—he just didn’t want to, or more like he thought that he no longer had the right to.

Now that he had no money left, he had to take a couple of hunting quests, else he would sleep with an empty stomach.

He did a few easy quests at first, ones that did not pay much but let him learn the fundamentals of hunting _alone._ When he became more comfortable, he started doing harder quests that gave him wounds that no potion could not heal but were definitely worth the bounty. 

A whole week in, and he’s started to grasp the basics of living.  Alone.

\----------

Seeking for more difficult quests, Prompto heads for Lestallum, one of the nearest settlements to where he’s currently staying.  He talks to a tipster and takes the hunt on a Gigantoad down south, past the Coernix Bypass.

He walks through the busy city and realizes that Crownsguards can be everywhere, considering that their outposts had been scattered all over Lucis.  He is certain, though, that none of them would recognize him.  Back before they had left for Altissia, he had only spent a few months of training to become part of the Crownsguard, most of which had been solo training sessions with Gladio and, eventually, the Marshal.  Well, he is also certainly not the type to approach people out of the blue (Noctis happened to be an exception to this rule, so to speak) so it was no surprise if he hadn’t made friends nor some acquaintances in the force.

When he turns a corner he sees two of them.  They look like they’re taking a break, they lean on one of the high tables on the side of the alleyway while drinking their sodas.  Their uniform is not too different from the Kingsglaive’s, although the latter is attached with hood and more intricate armor platings.

“—nished the inspection on the Artillery?” says one.

“Yeah.  Those babies are working properly, I assure you,” answered the other.

“So, what was this _side mission_ that King Noctis has ordered?”

Prompto is about to leave the earshot of the conversation as he walks past the two, but is held up by simply hearing the King’s name.  He subtly steps sideways and stays behind a couple of steam pipes with full intention of hearing more of the conversation.

“—said to keep an eye out for a blondie with freckles and blue eyes.  His pic is posted at the barracks, take a good look at it.”

Prompto’s eyes grow wide—who _else_ could they be talking about?

“What, is he a fugitive or a spy or sumthin?”

“There’s no information disclosed about that, but the order is to inform His Highness of his whereabouts immediately.”

“So, no order to shoot, then…”

After convincing his legs to move, Prompto walks—or runs, to be more precise—down to the main street and towards the parking lot.  When he reaches his motorbike, he looks around, wary that they might be on his tail.

He is not sure what to feel, really.  There is no question on whether Noctis is mad at him after he took off leaving only a voice recording which he does not even know if Noctis listened to or not.  Or even if he did, there’s no telling if it might have only enraged him even more.

So what will Noctis do if he knows of his location?  Will he take him back to Insomnia by force?  Or maybe Noctis knew better than to let him go since he did not properly retire from the Crownsguard? 

Whatever the reason is, Prompto’s not too aware that he is letting his imagination run wild at this point.

He pulls his beanie down to his ears, wears his goggles and drives down the empty highway and heads to the quest location.  He might not be hanging around Lestallum for a while, except when he’d need to report back to the tipster.

\----------

The Gigantoad put up quite a fight, but nothing Prompto could not handle.  If anything, he finds it more annoying to deal with the wet and muddy clothes he found himself in.

He drives down south, to Old Lestallum to take shelter from the downpour and at the same time browse through the available hunting quests.  When he arrives, he is astounded by what he sees—the little town that is supposed to be not-too-busy is now packed with so many people in numbers that is clearly not commensurate to the size of the outpost.  He parks his motorbike just beside the diner as the parking spaces are occupied by them.

Not only the number of people, but the looks of these people are kind of unusual to Prompto.  Most of them have hairs that are light in color—some silver, some pale yellow, and some blonde.  Their complexion is very fair in general which is strikingly different from the majority of those who live in Lucis.

Just like _Prompto’s_.

“Hey kid.  It’s nice to see a familiar face here,” the tipster in the original Crow’s Nest greets as soon as Prompto steps in.  He is thankful that he did not comment on the muddy boots.

“What’s with the many people?” Prompto asks as he settles on the bar.  “Are they here for Kenny’s Special Salmon?”

“Nah, I wish it were the case, though.”  Without waiting for Prompto to ask, the tipster says “They are refugees from Niflheim, apparently.”

Prompto outright freezes.  He doesn’t know too much of his origins—he only knew that he came from Niflheim.  Could this mean that he’s finally meeting people who would answer some of his questions?

“They arrived here yesterday in trucks driven by the Crownsguard,” the tipster continues, unaware of what Prompto is thinking.  “Seems like there is no place intended for them so I presume the military woud just let them go wherever they want to.  It’s not like they wanted to be here, they just don’t know where to go and how to go somewhere else.”

He is supposed to check on the available quests but Prompto walks out of the diner to meet them—or talk to them, if possible.  There are kids who are running around, there are adults who are sitting by the tables outside the diner, the camper and the motel. 

Before he can approach anyone, unconsciously, his eyes wander to their bare wrists, from one person to another, until he is surprised to find out _something_. 

He immediately rushes to his motorbike and drives away, his heart drumming and threatening to jump out from his throat, his mind racing through a lot of thoughts.

He did not see _it_ , he is certain of it.

He pulls over in the middle of nowhere.  He rolls the sleeve of his jacket up to see it—that ever present barcode tattooed on his wrist.  All along, he thought that it came along with being a citizen of Niflheim, that he could finally meet people who are the same as him.

But why is it that not a single refugee had such a mark?

Just—

 _What_ the fuck is he, then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. There you go! This chapter is looooong. I’ve thought of splitting it into two, but no, I am more satisfied this way ^^  
> 2\. It has been quite a while since I watched the movie “Kingsglaive,” so I don’t think I’m very accurate about everything. But well, this is a fan fiction, an AU so to speak, what can go wrong? ^^  
> 3\. They are at war, so it would make sense for them to have heavy artillery and stuff, yeah?  
> 4\. I’ve searched everywhere for the floor plan of the citadel to no avail. So I’ve made a garden there and I don’t regret it.  
> 5\. No beta. All mistakes are mine  
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Before the storm

The skies are clear.

 _For now,_ Nyx thinks.  The Lucian garrison south of Cleigne, on the mountain range along the River Wennath, is one the frontiers of the Lucian forces due to its strategic location.  Nyx temporarily takes a post here as he plans to move from garrison to garrison all over Lucis.

The feeling of being in the line of defense on military outpost definitely brings back memories.  His days of having been a soldier, including the friends he had lost in this war whom he and Libertus do not speak of whenever they come across each other.  It sometimes makes him sad, bitter, of course, but most of the time it fuels him up to keep going until the vengeance against the empire is served, and he swears that he’ll be one of those who’ll make it a reality.

He closes his eyes, taking a moment to breathe the fresh breeze brought about by the altitude of the mountain side, the lush green fields surrounding the intrusive barracks.  He wishes that Luna may feel moments like this, too—moments of peace and freedom from the worries of the crown.

He breathes, just one moment.

Just one _fucking_ moment.

Then all of a sudden, the alarm goes off, and the soldiers rush to their feet in no time, heading to their respective stations.

 _Beep,_ his earpiece chimes.

“Command base, what’s the status,” Nyx says as he frantically hurries to his men by the artillery.

“Two enemy flying fortresses and three small airships are heading your way,” says the one on the other side of the line.  "250 degrees west-southwest of your position."

In an instant, he orders the troops to man the anti-aircraft guns and the rest to get ready for airborne enemy foot soldiers.  For a few seconds the skies are clear, then they gain sight of the objects up ahead, cutting swiftly through the clouds.  The speed of these aircrafts is impressive compared to Lucian airships, approaching their location in a matter of split seconds, and the guns from both parties go off.

The artillery takes down a small aircraft, then another small one, then strikes at the wing of a flying fortress until the ship itself comes spiraling down and eventually crashes down on the mountain range on the Cape Shawe not too far away, ending with an explosion which covered the sky with dark smoke.

It takes a moment to reload the guns, but the second they are ready, they fire another shots to the wings of the remaining flying fortress which already gained quite a distance towards them and is ruthlessly firing at them, mostly hitting the empty barracks.  It takes several shots from the artillery and the left wing of the flying fortress takes critical damage, critical enough to send the ship plummeting.

To the ground, _supposedly._ But Nyx’s eyes grow wide when he sees the inferno getting closer and closer to _them._

_Shit_

_OH SHIT_

“GET DOWN, NOW!”

\----------

Prompto goes up early in the morning to take another hunting quest.  Unlike the first couple of days after he’s settled in, he does not actually have a dire need for gil—in fact, he had enough to get him by for another two weeks.  He had nothing else to do, really, and in every idle moment he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander off to Noctis.  He just wants less of those moments.

Of course, there were moments when his determination falters, when he allows himself to think about going back to the city.  But when he hears some people getting enthusiastic speculating on whether it should be a boy or a girl should the Queen gets pregnant, or when he is simply reminded of the fact that Noctis had chosen his destiny, somehow, that’s all it takes for him to realize that he no longer has a reason to return to Insomnia.

 

He passes by the Aracheole Stronghold.  It’s one of the biggest Imperial bases that he, Noctis, Ignis and Gladio had raided before, and now it’s completely abandoned.  The first time they had driven Imperial forces out of a base, some Lucian engineers had taken a look on the machines and contraptions that were left undamaged.  When they thought they laid their hands on a gold mine, it turned out that deciphering Niff technology was simply difficult, and so was adopting them.  Not being able to benefit from everything, Lucis had just left the bases as they were, although sometimes patrolling Crownsguards were seen in the area.  Prompto heard somewhere that some people used to salvage metal and wires from the bases, though, that is if they’re lucky to get past the guards.  

Prompto tries to keep his eyes on the road, but the nagging thought at the back of his mind returns.  He suddenly thinks that, maybe, Lucian engineers were mistaken on concluding that Niff technology cannot be used against the Empire itself.  After all, back in Altissia he managed to fly that lance-looking-aircraft-thingy—he doesn’t know what to call it—to bring Noctis closer to Leviathan.  Remembering that now, that thing didn’t require a _key_ , or anything of that sort.  He just reached for the handle bars, heard something went _beep,_ and then the engine hummed.   

Maybe the Lucian engineers were mistaken.  Besides, it’s not like Prompto have something that they don’t—

…right?

He pulls the brakes, _hard,_ but not enough to send him and his motorbike tumbling down the road.  He makes a sharp U-turn, and heads for the highway leading to the gates of the Imperial base.

 

As he approaches the gates cautiously, he is rather surprised to not see any trace of any Lucian guards around.  Well, certainly he doesn’t know that the crown forces had been ordered to regroup in their respective outposts to be ready for Imperial attacks, as soon as the attack took place in southern Cleigne earlier in the day.  Not seeing the point of looking for another way in, he pulls over in front of the gates which—thanks to the absence of electricity—are slightly drawn back, leaving a gap enough for a person to squeeze through.

The base is almost the same as they left it after a successful infiltration.  The hangars, watchtowers and other structures are still standing and solid.  Some inactive two-legged giant Magitek Armors are left sitting on the corners.  The electric gates within the base remain deactivated as well, the whole base devoid of any life, human or magitek.

The remnants of their last encounter are still scattered all over the place in the form of armor plates, helmets, swords and guns left by magitek soldiers that had quickly dissipated into thin air as soon as they were defeated.  He remembers Noctis saying something that they are just a bunch of burning wires, or _robots_ as he calls them.  But hearing their screams—their disturbingly _agonizing_ screams—something tells Prompto that there could possibly be more than that.

Not entirely sure what to look for inside the base, he goes to one of the small booths with the control panels and computers.  He thinks that if he could _actually_ activate these panels, he’ll be damned.

He lightly presses the various buttons scattered across the console and finds the act futile and stupid.  He eyes the barcode in his wrist, thinking that maybe it would be _read_ by a scanner or a laser which would definitely require—

Oh yes, _power.  Gods,_ he thinks he’s an idiot for forgetting that.

Restoring the power is not an option, of course.  So maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll find something powered by batteries instead, like some sort of a vehicle or something similar to that lance-looking-aircraft-thingy.

He goes to the hangar and sees a few inactive Magitek Armors, and then he reconsiders.  He remembers Loqi once manning an Armor through the hatch at the top of the robot.  He arbitrarily selects one, climbs on top of it and tries to pry open the hatch.  A few exhausting tugs are all it takes for the hatch to automatically open the rest of the way with a whirring sound, revealing the cockpit with a single seat and various consoles surrounding it.

Prompto takes a deep breath, tries to forget that he has claustrophobia this one time, and hops onto the seat.  He only hopes that the hatch won’t close without warning, otherwise he’ll be doomed. 

His eyes scan the consoles, still having no particular idea what to do because apparently, whoever made this thing is not fond of _labels_.  He sees a button that looks like a light switch, the most familiar look among all other controls, and presses it.  There is no response, the Armor still deprived of energy.  Well, at least the hatch does not close.  He tries a few more buttons and levers, but nothing happens. 

He turns to his right and there he sees a touch-pad-looking thing.  Without much thinking, he brings and presses his right wrist on the pad.  He almost chuckles for actually expecting that something would happen, when suddenly—

_Beep_

Then there’s light inside the cockpit, illuminating all buttons across the consoles and the screens above them.

Prompto grips the sides of the chair, bracing himself in anticipation that the Armor will move on its own.  After a few seconds when he finds that the Armor remains still, he hurriedly jumps out of the cockpit, scrambling down until he misses a step and lands poorly on his feet— _fuck,_ he thinks he might have sprained his ankle, but he does not care as he runs out of the hangar, out of the base, as fast as he can.

The time he reaches his motorbike, he can barely feel his weakened knees, his left ankle screaming in pain.  He tries to catch his breath, and everything is yet to sink in.

Fuck, he just activated a Magitek Armor using his goddamn barcode.  This fucking barcode that nobody had except _him._

He isn’t sure whether he does not regret going here, he just knows that the world is fucking with him by giving him more questions than answers.

 

After minutes of driving, he reaches the town where he’s settled in, probably to stay in his apartment for the rest of the day and to do something about that sprain.  Maybe he’s not paying too much attention to his surroundings—or just he does not know that some Crownsguards were ordered to stand by and be ready to evacuate civilians in case of an attack—that he does not notice the small group of Crownsguards at the rooftop of a two-storey building, one of them pointing at him and another angling the surveillance camera towards his direction.

\----------

If being a King had done a miracle to Noctis, it might be the fact that he no longer sleeps in the morning.

He stretches an arm to the other side of the bed.  It is, _not_ surprisingly, empty, devoid of warmth, of the sunshine he used to be so familiar with, which reminds him that—well—it is another day without Prompto.

The bed may not be the most comfortable bed at all since it is not his own, nor the bed in the royal couple’s chambers, but it is the one in which he finds the slightest ounce of comfort and refuge he could find after a long day.  It is not enough—it will never be—but he had decided that it should do. 

In the past two weeks he had always stayed the night in Prompto’s room.  As to the fact that he’s not sleeping in the royal couple’s room, Ignis is yet to comment on it, but maybe he already had an idea that Noctis wouldn’t want to do so unless he clears his disposition first.  Noctis definitely would, someday—he believes he should, after all—but _when_ is the part that he isn’t sure of.  For now, there had been an unspoken arrangement between him and Luna, at least he thinks so.

If someone would ask him, the past two weeks hadn’t been easy—it’s not like he was expecting it to be, he knew too well that _nothing_ will be easy in being the King of a country that is barely standing its ground against a war.  To be honest, he could take it, he could endure any more hardships that the Astrals had in store for him.  But when Prompto disappeared—not leaving him any idea if he’s safe and still _alive_ —everything somehow turned upside down, and suddenly, nothing’s fine.   

It’s not like losing someone who had been a part of his life since the beginning of time.

Rather, it’s like finding a missing piece that he never thought he had been missing all those fifteen years—it made him _complete,_ it made him know that he used to be _incomplete._ But now that he had lost it he cannot simply go back to the way everything was before, simply because he already knew the feeling of being whole, of being alive more than he used to be, of being _happy_.  He just found out how much of _himself_ he’s supposed to have, but lost instead, and really, it’s hard to deal with it.

Still, he gets up, welcomes another day, because he is pretty much convinced that Kings aren’t allowed to mourn their losses.

\----------

There was a pair of amber eyes inches away from hers, staring directly at her soul.  Luna remembers that day all too well, that day of her communion with the Leviathan in order for Noctis to gain the favor of the Astral.  There were walls of water surrounding them, together with the loud screams of Leviathan, and there was this man, Chancellor Izunia.

“You are not his salvation—your presence is his distress, as a matter of fact,” Ardyn said in his deep, husky voice, lifting her chin up with his rough finger.  “Killing you now here will do him a favor, and such is far from being my intention, unfortunately.”

“I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest Oracle,” Ardyn said before turning his back and putting on his fedora in one graceful movement.

Luna opens her eyes, bringing herself back to reality.

“What ails your heart?” Gentiana asks, her tone as calm as usual.  Even if everybody knows that she serves as the alter ego of Shiva, she still assumes the role of a messenger of the Gods.  Luna looks at her, shakes her head and smiles. 

The Queen stands from her seat and walks to the window that stretches from floor to the ceiling, giving her a good view of Insomnia. 

“What do the Astrals think of the King?” she asks Gentiana.  “Do you think he’s ready to ascend the throne and take the Crystal’s power?”

“His readiness for his Ascension as the Chosen King is not determined by the Astrals nor the Crystal alone,” Gentiana answers, taking a few steps toward Luna.  “The King himself must be certain of his readiness to lose what he shall lose in order to have what he shall have.”

Luna nods, but fails to hide the look of worry on her face.

“Worry not.  He has already gained the favor of the Five, after all.”

Then there is a knock, and a servant appears to deliver the message that the royal council will be holding an emergency meeting.  Gentiana smiles at Luna, silently telling her to go on.

\----------

The news of the attack at the southern Cleigne had reached the Citadel, minutes after the battle had been concluded.

Ignis walks down a hallway at a fast pace, heading towards the meeting room.  He passes by an intersecting corridor from which Gladio emerges and joins him, effectively matching his pace.

“Word has it that you have already resumed your training sessions with Noct,” Ignis says, his vision straight ahead of him.

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a mess, y’kno,” Gladio frowns.

“We all know that, I’m afraid.  All we can do now is to lend him our strength, especially since he will be receiving the Crystal’s powers one of these days.”

“If Noct would let me, I will go after Prompto _myself_ and drag his ass back here in the Citadel.”  Ignis finally looks at the Shield, raising an eye brow.

“Well in case you hadn’t noticed yet, he is the reason why our King is a fucking mess right now,” Gladio continues, and Ignis stares at him in utter disbelief.

“I’d pretend that I did not hear you say everything you just said right now, Gladio,” Ignis sighs, pushing his glasses on his nose bridge.

\----------

Cor reports the events pertaining to the attack of the Empire on the Lucian garrison south of Cleigne, and that three of his men lost their lives in honor of protecting Lucis.  He also confirms that Nyx was present in the garrison when the attack took place.

Ignis notices Luna stiffen, who is sitting next to him.  He had heard accounts that Nyx was the one who saved Luna during the attack on the day of signing of the peace treaty, and he assumes that Nyx had been someone important to Luna since then.

“The Captain is okay,” Ignis adds.  “I received a verbal report from the Captain himself.  He had suffered minor injuries, nevertheless did not fail to wipe out the Imperial soldiers dropped by the enemy airships after a flying fortress had crashed on the garrison.”

After his address, Ignis subtly shoots a glance to the Queen and sees her expressions relax and let out the breath that she might have held for a while.

The council takes the opportunity to talk about the upcoming ceremony on Noctis’ ascension to the throne.  Unlike the royal wedding which was mostly a public event, this ceremony will be held in private and will mostly be about the transfer of the Crystal’s powers to the new King.  The council considers the possibility of expanding the scope of the barrier to include all of Lucis, and include Accordo even, once the new King is granted the Crystal’s powers.  Regis remarks that doing so would be more taxing to Noctis, so it’s up to the new King to decide.  Of course, without giving it too much thought, Noctis agrees.

The council also talks about how the nights are getting longer, that more and more daemons are reported to have spawned in the past nights.  Luna finally speaks, and adds that people who are infected with the Starscourge are getting more in numbers, and “that and the longer nights will continue getting worse until the Immortal Accursed is defeated by the Chosen King.”  

Luna also takes the opportunity to relay the message of Gentiana.  “With regard to the ascension of His Highness to the throne, the Astrals wanted to let us know that the King must be certain about losing what he shall lose in order to have what he shall have.” 

He looks at Noctis who is sitting at the end of the long table immediately next to her right.  She sees him slightly shaken although in deep thought, as he must be trying to wrap his mind around the message.  What else?  What else should he lose?  Hadn’t he lost enough along the way?

Luna reaches for Noctis’ hand which rests on the table, and somehow it calms him down.

“We are all here, Noctis,” Luna says, slightly squeezing Noctis’ hand, holding Noctis’ gaze in place.  “This fight is not yours to bear alone.  We are here to stand by your side.”

“We are to hold the ceremony the moment the King is ready to receive the Crystal’s power,” Luna turns to the rest of the council, but her grip on Noctis’ hand remains firm.  Her tone is commanding, and everyone in the room appreciates that she is, indeed, the _Queen_.

\----------

When Noctis retires to his study, he couldn’t help but think about the message of the Astrals.   How else could he prove to the Astrals and to the Crystal that he is _goddamn_ ready?

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears a knock on the door and tells the person to come in.

“Your Highness,” a Glaive greets as he appears on the doorstep and bows before his King.

Noctis nods to him, silently urging the Glaive to say what he has to.

“We have determined Mr. Argentum’s location.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Thank you sooo much for the comments in the last chapter! I appreciate every single one of them, they really really really mean a lot to me. Thanks again!
> 
> 2\. I literally needed to go back to the Aracheole Stronghold for this fic. While I’m at it, I looted the Gravity Well that I missed the first time I raided the base ;)
> 
> 3\. _Beep_
> 
> 4\. No beta, all mistakes are mine D:
> 
> 5\. Thank you for reading!


	5. Here now, gone tomorrow

\----------

 

He had gotten used to it.

The warm and comforting weight of an arm wrapped around his waist, the steady rising and falling of the chest that was pressed onto his back, and the Prince’s face buried at his nape.  They had been going out for half a year already, and although waking up to mornings like this was nothing new, such simple things never fail to give him the fluttering feeling on his chest.

But somehow, he had gotten used to it.

He would like to spend the whole morning—hell, the whole _day_ really _—_ curled up this way in bed with Noctis.  He would _love_ to, really.  But the sun rays that were peeking through the partially drawn back curtains of the apartment window told him that it was high time to get up, eat breakfast—or brunch, perhaps—or take a shower first before everything else. 

Regretful, he tried to move out of such warm embrace, gently, quietly, inch after an inch.  It was not solely for the purpose of avoiding waking the Prince up—he should have known that Noctis could sleep through almost everything (even through an earthquake, he was sure of it).  Rather, he knew that once the Prince noticed him leaving his arms, he would pull him back and hold him tighter before drifting to sleep once again, which would definitely make Prompto want to go back to sleep as well.

Eventually, Prompto managed to peel Noctis away from him and get himself out of the sheets. 

“Hey Noct,”  Prompto called out as he nudged Noctis’ arm a couple of times.  He knew that waking Noctis up had never been a fruitful effort, but still, he had decided that there was something adorable on how Noctis furrowed his eyebrows.  “Rise and shine, buddy!”

“Mmnnn,” Noctis groaned in return before resuming his sleep.

Prompto sighed, although it was mostly a smile before he pressed a long kiss on the sleeping Princes’ cheek.  Before he could no longer stop the urge to curl beside the Prince, he stood up and headed straight to the bathroom, ignoring his and Noctis’ clothes that had been carelessly discarded along the way, to take that much-needed shower considering last night’s _events._  

He removed the only piece of clothing he had—that black wristband—and placed it on the countertop of the bathroom sink.  It was a gift from Noctis, a wristband made of a fine leather, which Noctis had claimed was better than the former cloth wristbands that Prompto used to wear if he was not gonna take it off even in shower.  Still, Prompto would bet that such fine leather was never a pleb-leather but a royal-leather and it would be such a waste to get it damaged from getting wet.  

On another note, he was thankful that not even once did Noctis asked him on what goes underneath the accessory.

After turning a few knobs in the fancy shower, he let the water run and tested it with a hand.  When he felt that the heat was just right and after a considerable amount of steam filled the room, he stepped into the shower and did the job of cleaning himself.

Moments before he was completely done enjoying the shower, the bathroom door swung open, announcing the arrival of the Prince who was still groggy from his sleep. 

“You did not wake me up.  Again,” Noctis said, his tone was accusing, but he stepped in the shower, snaked his arms around Prompto’s waist and peppered his neck and freckled shoulders with lazy kisses.  The thing with fancy showers was that they had enough room for moments like these.

“Yeah, good morning, too,” Prompto replied with an obvious sarcasm.  He could tell that Noctis was sulking, but they had gotten through this kind of episode many times already—he would always tell Noctis that he had tried waking him up and that Noctis would say that he did not remember any of such effort, so Prompto had pretty much learned to forgo such explanation for good.

For a moment, Noctis had to let go of Prompto to reach for the body wash and give himself a few scrubs, leaving Prompto missing the touch already.

“By the way, that’s a cool tattoo you got there.  No idea why you kept it hidden all this time,” Noctis said as he inched beside Prompto to get a share of the water. 

Prompto looked at Noctis in a snap, his eyes wide, as if he did not hear nor understand what Noctis was talking about, or at least he wanted to convince himself that he did not hear what he thought he had just heard.  His blood ran cold despite the warm shower, and his instinct was to cover his right wrist—his _bare_ wrist—with his left hand.  But he knew it was too late, Noctis had already seen it, and he even commented on it.  Through the glass surrounding the shower covered by steam, his eyes caught the sight of that piece of leather on the countertop—that _damn_ piece of leather which was supposed to be on his wrist.

_Fuck._

He looked at Noctis once again, who genuinely seem not to care at all as he washed himself through the running water.  Prompto wanted to say something, he _needed_ to say something.  If his mind were clear, maybe he could laugh it off and play along with Noctis’ thinking that it was just a cool tattoo.  But somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that Noctis never deserved any more of his lies. 

Words were, however, stuck in his throat—it was difficult to swallow, it was hard to breathe.  His hands were trembling, his knees were getting weaker and weaker in each second that passed.  He felt dizzy that he needed to brace himself on the wall of the shower to keep himself from falling.  Maybe it was the steam from the shower that was getting too much, or maybe it was the fact that he made a blunder of forgetting to hide the most hideous part of what he is.

“Hey,” Noctis called out to him once he noticed the sudden absence of color from Prompto’s face.  “You alright?”

“Noct, I… t-this…” Prompto stuttered as he failed to find the right words to tell Noctis.  He could not even look him in the eye as he did.

“Prom,” Noctis said, turning off the shower, his tone even firmer albeit painted with worry, when he noticed that Prompto’s whole body was practically trembling and that his breathing was a lot heavier than what could be considered normal.

“There’s… something you need to know.”  Prompto finally looked at the Prince in the eye, and when he did, he somehow regretted it as his tears began to fall without warning, his heavy breathing turned into uncontrollable sobs. 

“Hey,” Noctis scrambled to slide open the glass door of the shower to let the steam out and let some air in.  He held Prompto by his upper arms, keeping him steady as he was obviously in danger of falling to the floor any minute.  If he could, he would hug him, give his cold body the warmth that he needed, but Prompto’s hands on his shoulders were stopping him from doing so.

“Noct, I’m…” Prompto said in between his sobs, trying to push the Prince away by his weak, shaking hands.  It was as if that barcode in front of him was _screaming_ , that maybe he did not deserve such embrace, that maybe he did not deserve Noctis at all.

But Noctis’ grip on his upper arms did not falter, instead he held him tighter, still trying to pull him into his chest, with a force not too hard yet not yielding at the same time.  Prompto resisted for a good moment, but eventually gave in, letting Noctis completely wrap his arms around him, a hand resting on his nape and the other gently rubbing his back.  The bawls that he once held back finally echoed in the bathroom, although somehow muffled as he buried his face on Noctis’ shoulder blade.

“Shhh,” Noctis hushed, pressing a few lingering kisses on Prompto’s temple.  “You can tell me whatever you gotta say but you have to calm down, alright?”

“Noct, I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

“Shhh.  It’s okay, Prom.”

 

A few minutes later they were back on the bed, the Prince was gently caressing the head that was resting on his chest, his other hand rubbing lazy circles on the narrow part of Prompto’s hips.  They were tucked under the sheets that were wet as they had forgotten to dry themselves—one of the things they had forgotten along with eating brunch and putting some clothes on.

When Prompto was relatively calmer, he told the Prince everything he knew—at least according to what his foster parents had told him when he was old enough to understand most things—that he was not born in Lucis but in Niflheim.  As far as he knew, he had been one of the Niff refugees that Insomnia had taken in, and that the barcode had been always there to remind him of his origins.

Noctis said nothing at first, definitely not because of disinterest but of pure intention of listening to Prompto pouring his heart out. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a crown citizen to me,” Noctis finally said, bringing Promptos’ right hand to his lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles, then on that wrist where that _damn_ barcode was inscribed.  The kiss lingered while Noctis held his gaze in place, as if saying a thousand more words than what he had previously said.

…As if his thoughts earlier on how he did not deserve Noctis had never existed in the first place, overwritten by a much more real _feeling._

Noctis pulled him closer, as if they were not close enough, so Noctis could place more kisses on Prompto’s forehead.

“You know, when this is over, I mean, the war with the Empire and everything… I say we break down borders, come together as one nation.”

Prompto chuckled, slightly, which made Noctis somewhat abashed of what he had just said, but that was definitely the sound that Noctis would always like to hear.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this but…” Prompto said as he looked up to Noctis, bringing their faces closer, their noses almost touching. “You sounded like a real king for a second.”  He then pressed a kiss on the pair of lips in front of him, and Noctis was more than willing to kiss back. 

“So… are you with me?” Noctis said the moment they parted, his one hand resting on the small of Prompto’s back, the other brushing away the damp golden locks away from his face.

“Uh-huh,”  Prompto nodded, giving Noctis the brightest smile he had in a while with those tear-stained eyes.  “Ever at your side.”

 

\----------

 

\----------

 

For the first time since Noctis was named King of Lucis, Ignis has been actually summoned by the King himself.  For all he knows, Noctis have been trying to avoid him these past two weeks, thinking that the Advisor would only reprimand him for his misconducts.  So when he received a text message that says _meet me at my study now,_ he knew something’s up.

But before Ignis could reach the study, he sees the doors fly open and Noctis appears, walking down the hall at a rather fast pace.  Instead of wearing his kingly or royal raiment, he is wearing his casual attire of white shirt, jeans and rubber shoes.

“You have summoned me, Your Highness,” Ignis says as he catches up with Noctis and effectively matching his pace.

“I need you to be in charge of matters while I’m away,” Noctis says, his pacing unchanged as they turn a few corners towards the elevators.  “I also need you to tell Dad that I’ll be back immediately.  I don’t have the time to tell him in person.”

Ignis wonders, of course, on what particular matter demands the presence of the King himself that is beyond his knowledge as his Advisor. Going back to the events of the past few days, he can guess what else could actually bother Noctis outside his kingly duties.  When he manages to lower his vision to the King’s hand, he sees the large envelope and the large photo he’s holding on top of it—judging by how hurried Noctis is, it is not actually a surprise that he did not manage to put the photo back in the envelope.

They entered an elevator, heading down to the ground floor lobby.  Ignis cannot see the entire photo as it is being covered by Noctis’ hand, but from what he can make out, the grayscale colors and the pixilated quality of the photo suggests that is a printout of a surveillance footage.  By that, he might have confirmed his guess already.

“You’re going to where Prompto is,” Ignis remarks with certainty, absolutely without a tone of inquiry.

“I _am_.  And you’re not gonna stop me.”

The uninterrupted ride is unsurprisingly quick as the elevator stops and its doors open, and Noctis does not waste any second resuming his fast-paced walk towards the steps of the Citadel.  This time, it’s not only Ignis who follows him, but a couple of Kingsglaives as well.

“I suppose I cannot,” Ignis concedes, as he knows better than to lecture Noctis at this time, when his mind is already dead set on something.  “Given your level of resolve right now I’m afraid no one can stop you.”

Once outside, Noctis heads for the Regalia that is readied on the foot of the steps—its hardtop is up—together with another car for his convoy.  Noctis reaches for the car door handle of the backseat and was about to pull it when Ignis firmly plants his hand on the door.

“Just be reminded of what we talked about a few days ago,” Ignis tells Noctis, and he makes sure to hold his gaze firmly as he does so.

Noctis does not say anything, nor nod his head, nevertheless Ignis withdraws his hand from the door and Noctis goes to sit inside the car.

He remembers, of course, but unfortunately such remembrance does not necessarily translate to _understanding._

“I suppose I need not remind you to watch over the two of them when they meet,” Ignis tells Gladio who is currently descending the steps, when he meets him halfway. 

“No sweat.  Want me to eavesdrop?” Gladio replies.

“That is completely uncalled for, I’m afraid.  Just… Don’t let them hurt each other more than they already do.”

“Gotcha.” 

Just when a Glaive is about to enter the driver’s side of Noctis’ car, Gladio gestured for the Glaive to take the other car in the convoy instead.  Gladio shoots Ignis one final look, and Ignis nods, before the Shield takes his seat behind the wheel. 

Shortly after Gladio closes the door, the convoy moves, led by the Regalia, towards the gates of the Citadel.  Ignis looks at the cars before they disappear from view, and realizes that they may not be back until tomorrow morning considering that it is already late in the afternoon, unless they would risk traveling at night.

He could only hope that everything between _them_ will be okay.

 

\----------

 

It would take at least an hour to get out of the city.  If he remembers it correctly, the drive to that part of Cleigne would take about another hour and a half.

He takes a look again at the photos delivered to him by the Glaive—one of them is already outside the envelope, the other three he’s yet to take out.  The four printouts show various angles at different zoom levels, all in grayscale, blurred and pixilated, and each of them is focused on a man wearing a dark long-sleeved jacket and a beanie, facing sideways. 

His eyes are covered with his bangs and a couple of long locks that are framing the right side of his face, and he may not be wearing his Chocobo-butt hairstyle because of that beanie.  But Noctis is sure that those few pixels are those very same freckles that he used to stare at several times, treating them as if they were constellations in a night sky. 

Noctis could tell with utmost certainty that it is indeed Prompto, the only one whom he’d been missing these past couple of weeks.  

It is indeed Prompto, and now he’s on his way to _him_.

“Does the Queen know?” Gladio says, effectively breaking the silence inside the car.  He looks at the King through the rear view mirror and sees that _oh shit_ expression that he expects. 

Of course, Noctis had forgotten.

He takes out his phone from his pocket and immediately calls Luna’s number.  

“Noct,” Luna greets the moment the call goes through after a couple of rings.

“Luna, I…uh,” Noctis stutters as he rubs his temple, and that’s what he gets for not knowing exactly what to say when makes the call.  “I’m sorry I did not have the time to tell you this in person but—"

“It’s okay; I’ve heard from Ignis,” Luna says in her subtle way of telling Noctis to save his breath instead.  “You’re on your way to see Prompto.”

“Y-yeah.”

“Would you be as kind as to send him my regards?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, Noct.  Please take care on your journey.”

“I will.  Thanks.”  With that note Noctis is about to hang up but he hears Luna say something in addition.

“And Noct,” Luna adds. “Prompto, he’s… He’s waiting. 

“He always had been.”

Noctis wants to ask what Luna what she means by that, and he is in the process of finding the words to do so but the other end of the line hangs up.  He wants to call her again, but he thinks that doing so would be awkward, and adding more awkwardness to their relationship is one of the last things that he would want to do right now.

“So, what’s the plan?” Noctis hears Gladio say from the drivers’ seat.

“On what?” he asks back instead.

“So you’re saying you’re just gonna meet him and say whatever’s on your mind and to hell with everything?”

Noctis refuses to answer and looks outside the window instead, resting his chin on his knuckles, his elbow against the door.

Unimpressed by the response he gets, Gladio suddenly pulls over to the side of the highway, skidding the car to a halt, absolutely bringing Noctis to his senses. 

“What the hell!?” Noctis cusses. 

The other car in the convoy overtakes them and stops in front of them, probably worried that something came about, so Gladio rolls down the window and waves at the other car to tell them that everything’s all right.

Gladio then twists on his sit to face Noctis at the back seat.

“Just so we’re clear,” the Shield says, “I am not accompanying you on this trip just so you could fuck this thing up even more, got that?  Do yourself a favor and pull your shit together.”

Without further ado, Gladio resumes the drive and goes back to leading the convoy. 

There is still time—it would definitely take them a while to reach their destination, after all.  Maybe enough time for Noctis to think about what he wants to do, especially if Nocits would not fall asleep along the way, which is least likely given his current state of mind.  Maybe it’s just a matter of answering the question of _what does he really want_. 

But if he had the answer to that question two weeks ago then maybe Prompto would not run away and Noctis would not be here now going after him.

 

\----------

 

When they arrived at the parking spot near the outpost that the Glaives are claiming to be the place where Prompto had settled in, the sun is already beginning to set.  Gladio is the one who decided not to park at the town itself or they’ll risk being conspicuous. 

Since the town is situated away from the highway, they need to walk down the short asphalt road which leads to it.  It is not a long trek anyway, as they already see the silhouette of the outpost against the sunset.  The few concrete two-storey buildings are on sight, with few bungalows that are placed not too far apart, and some small item and weapon shops.  The settlement is surprisingly thriving with people, and Noctis couldn’t help but wonder how the four of them missed this town during their roadtrip before the events in Altissia. 

He is approached by one of the Glaives who told him that Prompto is currently inside the diner.  When Gladio moves to walk with him, he turns to him to give him a look which simply says _do not follow me._   Not willing to argue anymore, Gladio shrugs and lets the King go to the diner alone.

He enters the diner which is rather different from Takka’s or any of the branches of the Crow’s Nest.  There is a bar, yes, but instead of cushioned seats there are only wooden tables and chairs.  And there are no Justice Monsters pinball machines on the side. 

He scans the room and there are a number of people inside, but it does not take him more than a few seconds to find someone sitting on the farthest end of the bar, wearing a red tank top, a pair of fatigues and boots.  Despite the beanie, his blonde locks are sticking out to the sides of his face.

It is definitely Prompto, in the flesh, only a few feet away from where he’s standing.

Forget knowing what to do, _fuck_ , he does not even know what to feel.  Is he supposed to be happy enough that he would run to him and pull him in an embrace?  Is he supposed to be angry enough that he would take him by his arm and drag him to the Regalia?

But instead, why does his heart feel so cold and _empty_?

He clenches his fist, takes a deep breath and takes that first excruciating step towards Prompto.

“Has anyone told you that you looked like one of the King’s retainers?” Noctis says, casually, as he sits down on the empty seat next to Prompto. 

“Has anyone told you that your voice resembles that of King Noctis?” Prompto replies without looking at the person he’s speaking with, his tone nonchalant, his expression all the more indifferent.  He takes a sip from the soda that Noctis did not notice he is drinking until now.

After a brief moment of awkward silence, Prompto finally looks at the person beside him, and to his luck, it is actually the King of Lucis.  But instead of seeing those eyes that used to look at him with all fondness, he is welcomed by a pair of cold blue eyes. 

“It’s nice seeing you again, Prompto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Need I mention that Noctis had gotten a new phone after destroying his in the first chapter
> 
> 2\. Of course Luna knows how to use a goddamn phone alright 
> 
> Thank you for the comments and feedback in the last chapter! Just wanna let you know, not only your comments make my day, they also keep me going. Your feedback also helps me know if I am conveying the message that I wanted to convey (or if I am portraying the characters the way I wanted to). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. A ton of regret never makes an ounce of difference

He does not know when he did fall asleep.  The last thing he remembers is going home—that’s what he calls this shabby little apartment room now—pouring a bottle of potion and putting some ice cubes that he managed to get from the landlady on his sprained ankle, and lying on his back on his twin-sized bed.  He looks at the tiny window and sees the orange paint in the sky which says that the sun is about to set.  

As much as he wants to get up to eat—his stomach is pretty much complaining already—he wants to go back to sleep to somehow forget the pain on his ankle.  Or maybe to actually forget something else, probably the very reason why he got that sprain in the first place.

He brings the wrist in question to his view.  The barcode is sticking out of the black leather wristband which he had forgotten to slide back properly in place when he left the Stronghold.  Somebody might have seen his wrist as he walked through the town when he came back, or maybe not since he was wearing his long-sleeved jacket.

But none of that matters to him right now.

It only matters to him that there is no longer a _Noctis_ who got his back despite what the barcode meant.

When he closes his eyes again for a good minute, none of the sleep he desires arrives.  That’s when he decides to get up, finally, and _oh fuck_ how painful that sprain is when he takes the first step.  The swelling is gone, thanks to the potion, but there are some things that potions cannot heal so the pain will have to stay for another day or a half.  He is thankful that he’s able to save up more than enough gil to get him by until he’s able to take hunts again.

He takes the second step, and the next, until the pain becomes more and more tolerable and his steps become more normal than limping.  He then heads to the only diner that the small town had.

 

\----------

 

While it is usual for the outposts all over Lucis to have a branch of the Crow’s Nest, it seems like the franchise did not reach this small town.  The diner is just a _diner_ , really.  No names, no specialty, just a place for those who cannot cook their own meal.  No Justice Monsters pinball machine on one corner—that silly game which he and Noctis used to waste time playing with.

Prompto takes the seat at the end of the bar and orders a fish with fries on the side—which he prefers than dealing with meat the whole day.  Now that he thinks about it, he really no longer has to worry about that extra weight he’s putting to himself with all the hunts that he’s doing.  And again, why did he try so hard to lose all that fat he had when he was a kid?

Fuck.

Why does _everything_ have to remind him about Noctis?

When his order is served in front of him, he practically stabs the fork on the fillet, and almost laughs at himself for feeling so _pathetic._

Still, he finishes his plate—he never thought he is _that_ hungry, after all—and grabs a bottle of soda.  He decides to go back to his room once he finishes it—and after a glass of water, maybe.  He is halfway through when someone takes the seat immediately next to him.

“Has anyone told you that you looked like one of the King’s retainers?” the man says, with the deep voice which sounds so _awfully_ familiar to him.

Again, why does everything have to remind him about Noctis?

That aside, he does not answer at first, not looking at the other man either, as he thinks that it is a Glaive or a Crownsguard that is finally coming to get him.  He is being _hunted down_ , after all, so it’s not actually surprising.  Or if that’s not the case, the idea of being _hit on_ is a lot _worse_.

“Has anyone told you that your voice resembles that of King Noctis?” he says, in a tone as indifferent as he gets, in an attempt to dismiss the conversation.

The man does not answer, quite contrary to what he’s expecting.  But Prompto feels that the man is staring at him and the awkward silence makes him absolutely _uncomfortable_.

So he turns to look at the man, probably to tell him off, but he is not able to say anything the moment he sees another pair of blue eyes staring back at him.  His eyes grow wide, and everything fades in the background.

It appears that it is no other than the _King_ himself, sitting next to him.

“It’s nice seeing you again, Prompto.”

 

\----------

 

The walk from the diner to Prompto’s room is supposed to be a five minute walk, at most.  _Supposed_ to be, yes, but it seems like time is playing tricks on his mind and the walk feels like _ages_ , with Noctis walking at his side, a couple of feet away, obviously maintaining that distance.

Back at the diner, Noctis did not insist, nor gave him orders.  He just said _let’s go to your place_ in the most estranged tone that Prompto has ever heard from him, before standing and walking out of the diner, and somehow Prompto did not find himself refusing against it.

He silently wishes for Noctis to say _something_ —hell, they both need to—even if it means yelling at him and pouring his anger out.  Anything.  Anything but the silence that is seriously killing him right now.

The silence drags on, even as they go up the concrete staircase, passing by a couple of apartment units and stops by the door of Prompto’s.  In a matter of seconds he unlocks the door and opens it, only for Noctis to walk in first without saying a goddamn word.

He closes the door behind him, flicks the light switch in an arm’s reach and stays there, watching as Noctis waltz further inside, taking a step at a time, thoroughly observing each and every detail of the room.

“So,” Noctis says, breaking the silence at last, turning to look at Prompto _at last_.  “This is your new place, huh?”

Prompto does not say anything, he’ll be damned if he actually knows what to say.

“You’re telling me that you had thrown away everything you had just to live _this_ kind of life,” Noctis continues, his tone is painfully calm and reproachful at the same time.  “You could have had a better life in the city, with me, with everyone.  But instead you chose _this_.” 

“Tell me,” he continues as he takes a few steps toward Prompto in an agonizingly slow pace.  He holds Prompto’s gaze as he does, with blue orbs that scream absolute emptiness that Prompto never thought Noctis is capable of having.  “Are you happy now?”

Noctis says no more, but instead bores a hole into Prompto’s soul by simply staring directly at him.  Prompto wants to look away, away from those scrutinizing eyes that are tearing him inside out, ‘cause it’s not the eyes of the _Noctis_ he knows.  But he can’t.  Noctis is not waiting for an answer from Prompto—he _demands_ it.   

“You’re now married to Luna, all right?”  Prompto says, although he is sure that it is more of a yell than anything.  It took every fiber of his being to say it, to mention something that is painfully obvious.  His chest is heaving; his tears are in danger of flowing at any minute.  He just wonders how he’s still standing up until now.

“So that’s it?” Noctis says, his voice is upped in a much louder tone enough to match Prompto’s in his previous statement.

 _It’s not just it,_ Prompto thinks, Prompto wants to say in retaliation.  Noctis did not know how Prompto had tried so many times imagining Noctis living the life that he had chosen with Luna, and how much it hurts to imagine that he had to live the rest of his life witnessing it.  Prompto could have tried, really.  He used to think he could be one of those martyrs that would brave seeing the person they love be with somebody else.  But somewhere along the way, his determination crumbled, and he’s already on the point where he cannot pick it up again.

“You love her,” Prompto says instead, his tone not furious but assertive.  There is certainty in his words—he knows how Noctis had treasured Luna since they were kids.  He knows deep in his mind that Luna had always had a special place in Noctis’ heart, and if anything, Luna is perfect on her own, it is not difficult for Noctis to love her.  He knows it, he does, but having the words come out from his own mouth and outright admit it took the last ounce of strength he had.

He wants to cry so bad, to scream as loud as he can, because _damn,_ the Astrals are just being  _fucking unfair_ to him right now.

“What else do you want me to do?” he adds, but this time, his voice lost its assertiveness which is replaced by persuasion, by desperation.   

“That’s why you ran away, that’s why you threw away everything, including _me_ , including the promise that you will stay with me, no matter what!?” Noctis answers instead, more urgently, as he fists Prompto’s shirt and slams him to the wall behind him, holding him in place.  It somehow hurts, but Prompto does not flinch, his eye contact with Noctis doesn’t waver.  He feels too much pain already that it doesn’t compare.

But Prompto could feel Noctis’ hand tremble as it clenches tighter on his shirt until the neckline practically strangles him.

“That’s the reason why you left without a word leaving me only _this?_ ” Noctis takes out a small device from his pocket with his free hand and brings it to Prompto’s sight.  It is a voice recorder, the one that Prompto had given Ignis before he left the city as far as he can recognize.  In a blink of an eye Prompto hears a sound of shattering at the far corner of the room and the device is gone from Noctis’ hand.

“It’s not that simple, Noctis,” Prompto answers still, his voice is somewhat broken but nonetheless determined, looking Noctis in the eye, like he is not being deprived of breath, like he is not in the verge of tears.  Thankfully, Noctis releases him from his grip and turns away, otherwise Prompto fears that he will burst into tears right in front of him.

“Don’t say it like it means nothing ‘cause I had risked _everything_ just to have the slightest chance of feeling all right,” he continues, despite Noctis not facing him.

“But then what about how I feel?”  Noctis says as he turns back to Prompto, his voice is still loud, but more shattered, that it makes Prompto taken aback.  “Doesn’t it matter?  Don’t _I_ matter at all?” 

His fists are still clenched and trembling, he is biting his lower lip so hard that it almost bleeds, and overall he looks like he’s about to destroy anything within his reach.

It’s frustrating, it’s useless.  Nothing Noctis has ever said so far came out right or even came close to what he really wanted to say. 

He just wanted to say, _come back to me._

“‘Cause right now, just so you know—I’m _broken_.”

_Come back._

“And you have no _fucking_ _idea_ , Prompto.”

_Stay with me, please._

_I need you._

Then there it goes, the tears that neither of them knew Noctis had been holding back. But before Prompto could see more of it, Noctis storms out of the room, opening the door with immense strength that could tear it from its hinges, not bothering to close it. 

Prompto’s tears soon follow suit, as he slumped his back on the wall before finally collapsing onto his knees. 

 

\----------

 

When Noctis runs outside, the night has already undertaken the sky.  He does not know when his tears stopped falling, or when his sobs subsided, he just runs towards the town’s exit, to the highway. 

He just knows that he absolutely fucked up.

Not long after he sees Gladio and two Glaives in a scene which looks like an aftermath of a battle with an Iron Giant where the black fumes are still dispersing in the air.  Although he finds it unusual for daemons to appear this early in the evening, he does not care nor even bother saying anything as he sits unceremoniously at the backseat of the Regalia.  Well, he really doesn’t need to wonder if he had ever paid attention to the reports saying that the nights are getting longer and more daemons are coming out. 

Gladio is kind of dumbfounded, being completely ignored by the King, but still he sits on the driver’s seat and drives the Regalia away from the area, still followed by the other car in the convoy.

 

The first few minutes of the drive is enveloped by silence, as Gladio does not comment on anything, for once.  Noctis is kinda thankful for it, though, ‘cause he’s already tired of it all.

He’s tired, really.  Not physically tired, at least, ‘cause that years of training should pay off, but just… _tired_.  He does not want to think anything else, about what’s happened several minutes ago.  Not to mention that right now, he’s on his way back to the city empty handed, though in the first place, he did not expect to come home with Prompto.  He knew that it is more probable that he would not be coming home with him.  He should not be expecting anything, truth be told, but still, he is upset, he is disappointed, he is _defeated._

He wants to be angry at himself for losing such an opportunity to do a lot more different things than what he had actually done. 

The silence continues until he hears Gladio call Ignis that they would be spending the night at the Leville in Lestallum.  The Regalia still uses the headlights that Cindy had installed—those headlights that ward off daemons on the road—so they should be able to drive through the night, however, Gladio may have reasons.  It could be that he sees that the King needs to have a proper rest, or maybe he does not want to risk driving at night given the fact that daemons have become more aggressive recently. 

Noctis would like to think it’s the former, ‘cause fuck.  He just wants to sleep now and shut himself from the world.

When Gladio pulls over at the parking lot of Lestallum after several more minutes of driving, Noctis is quick to step out of the vehicle and walk away but Gladio catches him by the arm, forcing him to face him.

“What happened back there?” Gladio finally asks.

“I fucked up,” Noctis answers immediately.  Gladio’s expression, however, demands further explanations, so Noctis adds, “That’s it—I fucked up.

“Now why don’t you just go on and tell me that I’m a loser who knows nothing but to fuck things up!”

“If you already know that then what’s the point of me telling you, goddammit!” Gladio responds, furiously, but he does a good job of constraining his voice so it is not raised enough for everyone nearby to hear.

“You fucked it up, yeah.  That’s what you think you do _best,_ right?” Gladio adds, in a relatively calmer tone, but still dismayed.  “That doesn’t mean you have to keep whining and wait for things to fix themselves up!

“You’re the King now, for fuck’s sake.  Stop acting like a damn spoiled brat!” 

With that statement, Gladio walks away and heads to the Leville where he books two suites for himself and for the King.  Gladio immediately retires to his room after telling Noctis to be up by 6 in the morning.  Noctis, too, does not waste a minute to lock himself up in his room.

 

\----------

 

That night, Noctis had a dream.

In his dream he would pull Prompto into a tight embrace and say to his ear how much he missed him over and over again like it is some sort of a mantra.  He would place kisses all over his face before he would kiss his lips with all love, and passion, and need.

In his dream he would tell Prompto how his freckles stood out some more.  He would remark that he had lost weight; he would comment how the Choco-butt hairstyle suits him even more than wearing that beanie.

In his dream, he would hear Prompto’s laugh once again like it was the best sound he’s ever heard in his life.

In his dream he would be coming back to Insomnia together with Prompto, their hands intertwined.

But the sweetness of his dream is immediately replaced by the bitterness of the reality the moment he opens his eyes to the intrusive sunlight piercing through the shutters of the hotel window. 

 _It’s over,_ _everything is messed up,_ he thinks.

 

After having his breakfast—if one can call that as such, since Noctis just picked at his platter more than anything else—he meets Gladio by the fountain in front of the Leville.  They both head to the parking lot; the silent treatment is still there, though it is less awkward as Noctis feels that Gladio does not want to push the subject anymore instead of being merely upset.  He settles at the backseat of the Regalia and Gladio prepares to drive the rest of the way back to the city.

Well, this is it.  Once they go back to the city, he would definitely let whatever happened last night be his last memory with Prompto. 

He is about to lose him, and that fact is just sinking in.  It may be forever, or just for a while, nobody could tell.  He doesn’t know what he wants, that’s the truth, but he knows that he would want anything but lose Prompto.  Anything but that.

Why else would he hunt him down in the first place?

But now, he’s about to turn his back to Prompto and to everything that’s between the two of them.

“Gladio, go back,” Noctis suddenly blurts out, partially without thinking.  They have already traveled half a mile from Lestallum. 

“To the hotel?” Gladio asks, eyeing Noctis through the rearview mirror.

“To that small town in the North.”

 

\----------

 

The moment Gladio pulls over to the parking spot—the same spot where he parked last night—Noctis gets out of the car and runs to the town as fast as he can.   He would even phase or warp through the distance if he could ignore being recognized by everyone in the town.

To hell with what he wants to do with the both of them.  He would figure that out—eventually, he hopes so—but right now he just wants to see Prompto, hold him in his arms as tight as he can, or simply do better things than those he had done last night.

He just needs to see Prompto, so that’s what he’s gonna do, that’s why he runs towards that shabby apartment like his life depends on it.  He reaches Prompto’s room in a minute and stops in front of the door, letting his burning lungs get the air that they need, letting his trembling hands go still, before he knocks on the door.

He knocks three times.  He repeats it again.  When he still does not get the answer that he expects, he reaches for the doorknob and twists it.  It’s not that he wants it to be _locked,_ but he is surprised to find out that it’s not.  He vigorously pushes the door open only to find out that the room is devoid of any human presence.

He would have concluded that Prompto had just gone out, however, the lack of the clothes where they used to hang and of the other personal effects in the bedside table tells him otherwise.

Suddenly, he remembers the night of his wedding when he barged into Prompto’s room to find out that most of his things were gone.

It’s the same thing all over again. 

Once again, he lost Prompto.

 _It can’t be_ , he tells himself.  There’s no way that he got past the Kingsglaives stationed in this town without him knowing.  His anger is rising for many reasons, including such failure of the Glaives to follow his goddamn order.

He is about to kick the nearby chair when he feels a presence by the door.

“Young lad,” the old lady by the door greets.  “Are you looking for the tenant that used to live here?”

Noctis nods, and assumes that it is the landlady to whom he’s speaking to.

“Oh my, you just missed him.  He took off by dawn, he even woke this poor ol’ lady up in such a time to cancel his lease.  Oh well, he’s still a good kid, though.  He did not even get a refund for the rent payment he’s made for the next three days.”

“Did he say where he’s going?” Noctis asks, in an authoritative tone he had gotten used to these past couple of weeks.  He doesn’t want to sound rude and imposing, but he doesn’t care right now.

“He did not say anything.  Kids just come and go on their own, you know?”

Not expecting to get any information from the old lady, Noctis is about to excuse himself when she says, “Oh, I remember,” and fumbles in her pockets in search of something.  “He asked me to give this to whoever comes by and looks for him.”

She takes out a familiar black device from her pocket and hands it over to Noctis.  There’s no mistaking it—it is _that_ voice recorder.  

“He says that it is for the King.  That silly kid, even using the name of the King in one of his jokes.”

Noctis hears somebody shout from downstairs, saying something that Noctis cannot understand but makes the old lady excuse herself nonetheless.

He sits on the chair, draping his arms over his thighs as he hold the device in his hands.  He turns it on, somehow surprised to see that it is still working despite him practically shattering it to pieces last night.  There are two files in its storage now—he is pretty sure that the first one is the one that Prompto left weeks ago.  He plays the second one.

_Hey Noct._

_I uh, thought about everything…_

It is Prompto, as expected, and his voice is hoarse.

 

\----------

 

The trip back to the city is uneventful.  It is also silent, as neither Noctis nor Gladio makes an effort to create a conversation, meaningless or not.  He could only guess that Gladio already had a clue on what has happened, when Noctis came back to the Regalia looking utterly devastated. 

It is a long drive, and of course Noctis could not help but replay in his mind the record that Prompto has left behind.

_I uh, thought about everything._

_Everything you said last night.  So I… I decided not to run away anymore.  You know where to find me—there are only a couple of places I would be._ _Maybe one day you would drop by and say hi._

 _But I hope that when you do, it means that you are choosing me.  T_ _hat’s… kinda selfish of me, huh?  I know that._

_But you wouldn’t do that right?  You just… can’t.  ‘Cause, you know.  You’re the King and stuff._

_So you have to wait for me to come see you.  ‘Cause when I do, it means that I’ve already gotten over everything and I would be willing to stay by your side once more._

_As the best friend that I should have been._

_So until then…_

 

 _You know where to find me._ Noctis wants to believe Prompto in that respect, though.  Maybe it’s true, that’s why when they pass by the Hammerhead, he doesn’t need to take notice of that black motorbike parked between the items shop and Takka’s Pit Stop for him to actually _know_.

Maybe he should have listened to Ignis.  Maybe Ignis was right—he should not have met Prompto ‘cause he’s bound to make things even worse.  Or maybe, everything between them is bound to get worse whatever he does. 

‘Cause right now, he is the _King,_ and that’s not gonna change at any minute now.

That’s why he lets Gladio continue driving past Hammerhead towards the city instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, all mistakes are mine. (The last time I was not able to say this I found too many errors on the chapter after I posted it D:)
> 
> Whew! I must say, this chapter took everything I had. But on the bright side, I am pretty sure that we're half way through this story. I hope you stick with me until the end!
> 
> And once again, thank you for the comments and feedback in the last chapter. I guess I won't stop saying my thanks in each chapter coz you guys are just soooo sweet <3 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. To err is human

He kind of misses the weather in northern Cleigne.

Prompto has spent the past three days getting used to the sultry weather since he had settled in Hammerhead, and it is something difficult for him considering that his skin is inherently unintended to withstand the burning heat of the sun.

Well, he has to get used to it now since he would be staying here for who-knows-how-long.

When he first arrived and told Cid and Cindy of his intention to stay in the outpost for the meantime—or to be honest, in an _indefinite_ time—he was glad that they did not ask for further details as to the reasons why.  At that time, he was about to rent the camper for a week, but Cindy insisted to let him have the spare room at the back of the mart instead.  It is not big, almost the same size as the apartment room his rented in the past weeks, but it is noticeably much cleaner, with a functioning air cooler, and the somehow unused bed is much softer and a bit wider.  He’s got to share a toilet and bath with Cindy but that’s minor, ‘cause yeah, everything’s for _free_.  Well, he would say that money’s not entirely an issue, but the room gives the vibe of coziness and warmth—at least not in the literal sense ‘cause he’s got enough heat from the weather—that it may be the closest to what he can call home so far.  He was about to refuse the benevolence only to get a good scolding from Cid.

In order for him not to feel bad and too indebted at all, Prompto insisted that Cindy teach him the basics of car repairs and maintenance.  Cindy did not decline, of course, since she really needed a helping hand at times and Prompto’s got a thing for automobiles and wiring and stuff.  Prompto’s a fast learner, apparently, that he’s gotten quite the hang of it in three days.

In three days, he thinks that his life is getting closer to what can be considered _normal_ , now that he doesn’t have to rely on bounty hunting to survive (although he still took a hunt or two from Takka).  As a proof of going back to normal _,_ he even visited the Chocobo farm yesterday in what seemed like years. 

He wants to believe that he is taking one good step at a time.

In addition, he no longer has to be constantly wary of the presence of uniformed personnel like some fugitive.  _Except,_ the Glaives are now _conspicuously_ watching over him 24-7—or at least only during the day ‘cause he’s pretty sure that those guys get some sleep, too.  They seem to follow him whenever he drives outside Hammerhead, not bothering to hide their presence at all, nonetheless keeping a considerable distance. 

He notes that they are taking turns watching over him.  In the first two days it was a girl whom he had gotten along just fine since he started talking to her—then on the third day it was a young man—a very quiet one who did not even bother to make a conversation with him when Prompto tried to initiate one.  Both Glaives had joined him in the hunts he had taken, obviously to keep him from getting harmed. 

He certainly does not have to guess why they are watching over him.

Today, he is pretty sure that the Glaive who is standing by a car across the road is different from yesterday’s Glaive, judging from the taller height and more muscular build.  He cannot see his face, though, because of the hood the man’s wearing.

To be honest, it was awkward at first, being followed and being kept an eye on.  He’s still not used to it, however, it’s not like he could come up to Noctis and tell him to stop giving such orders to his elite group of military personnel. 

Oh.

_Noctis._

Of course, there were times like these when he cannot avoid thinking about what happened three days ago, when he had finally crossed paths with Noctis.  He knew that it was bound to happen anyway—it would not have been possible to hide forever.  But somehow, he was expecting that when Noctis sees him, the outcome would have been different from what had taken place—doesn’t have to be better, nor worse, but just _different._

_…What about how I feel?_

_Don’t I matter at all?_

He thinks that, maybe, Noctis was right.  Maybe, he had gotten too absorbed in his own feelings that he had forgotten about what Noctis would feel.  Or maybe he had not forgotten, but it had been overshadowed by the fact that he did not expect that Noctis would actually feel that way.  He had expected that the presence of Ignis, Gladio, his father, and Luna would have been more than enough to offset Prompto’s absence.  He had least expected that leaving Noctis would affect him _that_ much.

And so that’s where he’s mistaken, he now realizes. 

_Just so you know—I’m broken._

_And you have no fucking idea, Prompto._

He’s still not sure, though, on whether coming out from hiding is the right decision—not that he knows what to consider as right or wrong anyway, though.  He had left the recorder to the landlady just in case a Glaive or a Crownsguard would be looking for him, so that Noctis would know about this decision of his.  Well, considering that the Glaives are now serving as his bodyguards, he could only assume that the recorder had reached its intended listener.

He prefers Noctis not to know where he is, really.  ‘Cause now that Noctis knows, Prompto would be expecting him to _actually_ come see him, and that’s what he had been afraid of all this time: _expectations_.

Well, what he’s said in the recorder is true, nonetheless, that there’s no way Noctis would choose Prompto over anything else.

But somehow, at the back of his mind, he could not help but _hope._

Even so, he had a Plan B still, or the one which means him getting over Noctis _totally_.  Going back to being _just_ best friends?  He knows, of course, that being lovers from being friends is one thing, and being _just_ friends from being lovers is another.  Prompto’s still unsure if he could do it, though, but he knows he should try, ‘cause it might be the only way to be with Noctis again.

And yet, he is not ready to let go completely and be _that_ best friend again.  Not just yet.

‘Cause sometimes, it’s just _goddamn_ hard to be in love with your best friend.

 

He usually starts the day helping out at Garage.  But this time, Cindy tells him to take a break for the meantime now that there are still no customers or pending repairs.  On that note, he would want to hang out with Cindy (‘cause now that he has been helping out with the cars they definitely have a lot of things to talk about) but ultimately considers going on a hunt instead.

 

He sets foot in the diner and Takka greets him.  “Hey kid.”

“Got any new hunts available?” he asks as he sits by the bar.

“I sure do,” Takka hands him over the latest list of hunting quests available.  Prompto browses through the small list, seeing that some quests are already marked as completed.

“A coeurl, huh?  Sounds interesting,” he remarks when he finds an available quest seeking for a coeurl near the Keycatrich Ruins, north of Leide.

“Think you’re up to the job?” Prompto rethinks, for a second, since this is about to be the first quest of its difficulty that he would be doing alone.  But by now, he is pretty much confident with his skills with all the solo hunting he has done in the past two weeks.  He wants to convince himself, at least.

“You bet I am.”

He should pack lots of ammunition, he tells himself.

 

It is late in the morning when he gets to the location of his game.  As expected, the Glaive follows him, but he couldn’t help but wonder why _this_ Glaive drives a black car while the others used motorbikes instead. 

When he parks at the Praire Outpost, the Glaive pulls over not too far behind.  Prompto does not wait for the Glaive to come out of the car for him to start walking to the Ruins. 

It takes a good five minute walk before he spots the coeurl in the middle of the open field in front of the entrance of the Keycatrich Trench.  If he had learned anything from all the hunts he had done so far, whether alone or with the _three_ , it is that sneaking tactics are likely to put the hunter in an advantageous situation.  So he plans to get as near as possible to his target, which is lying on the sand, neither sleeping nor fully alert, then take a good aim and break an appendage. 

He sneaks around, crouching behind some rocks for cover, until he is a good forty meters away from the unsuspecting coeurl.  He aims down the sights, takes a deep breath, before taking that first shot which cuts right through one of its whiskers. 

The pained roar of the coeurl echoed in the area.  But before it could spot Prompto, he begins showering him with bullets, aiming mainly at its head and chest.  A few misses, but most bullets land, although not quite enough to stop the animal from charging towards Prompto. 

 _Fuck,_ Prompto cusses under his breath as he successfully evades the attack.  He continues firing at it before it could charge at him again and luckily, it finally falls flat on his back.  Prompto delivers the fatal shot to its chest victoriously. 

When he is certain that the coeurl is already dead, he slices off its remaining whisker with a dagger and gets the one that he first tore off with his first shot.  He puts the two whiskers in a sac which he hooks on his backpack, when he hears _something._

_Grrr—_

It’s a growl, of an angry beast, obviously.  He looks back to the coeurl that he took down and finds that it is still lying on the ground where he’s left it, where it’s supposed to be.  When he looks around, that’s when he sees the source of the sound.

It is one—no, two—no, _three_ coeurls who are taking slow, cautious steps toward him, about a good fifty feet away, with eyes burning with _fury_. 

 _Fuck._ He needs to _run._ He knows that, of course, but he also happens to know that when he does, he is unlikely to outrun the three of them, especially now that they’re gaining quite a distance.

Funny enough, not too long ago he was thinking of sneaking tactics but now he finds himself at the receiving end.

_Fuck._

He goes with his instincts, and his instincts tell him to fire and hold them off before fleeing.  He shoots the nearest one first, and luckily the bullet hits an eye which makes the coeurl hold it tracks while the other two are charging towards him.  He fires at another one but fails to keep it from getting nearer. 

Finally, he runs for it, as fast as he can, like his life depends on it because it actually does.  He did not come _this_ far just to be devoured by these felines.

He can feel one of them catching up behind him, but he dares not look back.  Suddenly, a flash of blue light leaving small crystal shards on his way passes by him, to the direction of the coeurls on his back.  He hears the clash of metal and bones behind him, and that’s when he decides to look back.

There’s the Glaive, slashing and fending off the coeurls with a pair of daggers.  His hood is down, and Prompto definitely recognizes that _badass_ haircut. 

Now that he’s in a good position and distance, he fires a shot to a coeurl charging at the Glaive which puts it on the ground, enabling the Glaive to strike one of his daggers in its throat.   

 

\----------

 

“So…!”  Prompto says as he walks towards the table and chairs in front of the camper, with a can of beer on each of his hands.  He throws one to Nyx who sits on one of the chairs and who successfully catches the can.  “The Captain of the Kingsglaive, keeping me under surveillance.  What a great honor!”

Nyx chuckles at the remark as he opens his can of beer and takes the first gulp.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” Prompto says as he sits down on one of the chairs and opens his own can.  “You know, I’m not exactly the VIP type to require personal security.  And I’m pretty sure that the war is bad enough to make the Glaives’ hands full.  Mind if you tell your men to back off a bit?”

“I’m sorry to tell you but,” Nyx replies, “It is one of the King’s direct orders to the force that I myself can do nothing about.”

Prompto takes a gulp from his can after letting out a loud sigh which basically says _Ok, I give up._

“So,” Prompto says as he temporarily sets the can down.  “What are you doing here, of all places?”

“I am moving from one post to another as part of my duties.”  Nyx knows that it is a half-lie for reasons.  First, he is yet to go back to his normal duties of hopping from one military outpost to another ever since Cor advised him to take it easy and let his fractured lower arm heal completely first.  The cast has been removed yesterday, but he still had a remaining day to prove to Cor that he is already fit to work.  Second, he knows too well the real reason why he himself decided to stay permanently outside the city, and that is not just simply because of his _duties._

“Don’t cha think you could fool me that easily, bro,” Prompto retaliates, as if seeing through it.

“Anywhere away from the Citadel will do, I guess?” Nyx finally admits.

“Yeah.  Sucks to be heartbroken, huh?” Prompto is no longer surprised at all—he had noticed that the stares Nyx had given Luna when they reunited before the wedding speaks volumes.  

“Guess we’re the same.”

“Nah.  Luna’s not your best friend.  You’ve lost only one.  Me, I had lost a best friend _and_ a lover.

“Still sucks, though,” Prompto adds when he thinks that his comment may be rather insensitive.

“Yeah,” Nyx answers as he lifts his can to Prompto’s direction, and Prompto is quite relieved to see him smile.  “To the heartbroken lads of Eos.”

“To the heartbroken lads of Eos,” Prompto repeats as he lifts his drink as well and the cans _clinked_. 

Nyx wonders, however, on what made Prompto think that the King no longer wanted him.  Seeing how Noctis had been the first few days Prompto had left Insomnia, and how he toed the line between what’s justifiable and what’s considered abuse of powers in ordering the military to search for Prompto, Nyx couldn’t help but think that some things simply do not make any _sense._

Noctis wouldn’t choose Prompto?

That’s complete _bullshit._

Somehow, he wants to tell that to Prompto but he eventually dismisses the idea, since he reconsiders that maybe, he is just an outsider who knows nothing about everything.  Maybe things are just complicated for him to understand.

“You’ve come quite a long way, huh?”  Nyx comments instead, when both of them sets down their almost empty cans.

“Says the now Captain of the Kingsglaive, huh?”

“Well, I did allot many years for training to be good at combat, if you wanna know.  But you—you just trained in, like, several months before joining the King’s retinue when he was still a prince.  And look at you now—

“It’s like you’re built for fighting.”

Prompto is startled, but goes unnoticed by Nyx as the Captain takes another gulp at his drink and finishes it.  He knows that it is nothing but a casual remark from the Captain, but it hits home.

Maybe, he is actually _built_ for fighting. 

The barcode on his wrist burns.

“Hey,” Prompto hears Cindy call out as she walks toward them.  “What you two talkin’ about?”

“Talking about how tan suits you,” Nyx answers, as he flashes that signature _Nyx smile_ that Prompto once heard the Glaives had been talking about back in the days.  Prompto doesn’t know what’s so special about it, not until now when he sees the unusual curve at the corners of Cindy’s pursed lips while her eyebrow is arched. 

Still, “Save your breath, you smooth talker,” Cindy retorts.

 

\----------

 

“You seem quite busy, boy,” Prompto hears Cid say.  He lifts his gaze up from the opened hood of the car and sees the old man walking by.

“There’s nothing else to do,” Prompto replies as he resumes inspecting engine of the car which had been recently brought in as the engine no longer starts.  “Now that I’m taking a break from hunting for a while.”

“Sit down and chat with me for a while, waddya say?”  Cid says as he sits down on the reclining chair in front of the garage entry way.  “That car ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Willing to take up the offer, Prompto reaches for a piece of cloth and wipes his hand off the grease and grabs his bottled water.  He sits on the other wooden reclining chair as he drinks.

“How’re you doin’?” the old man asks.

“Fine, I guess,” Prompto answers as he sets down the water bottle on the small round table between him and Cid.  “Still getting used to being without the three of them.”

“Y’ know, you do remind me of myself back then.”

“I do?” Prompto inquires with genuine curiosity.

“Well, I had left Insomnia before Reggie was crowned a King.  Never got to see him since then, not even Clarus.”

Now that Cid mentions it, Prompto remembers him talk about it sometime when the four of them had visited Hammerhead, but Cid had left out the full details as to the reasons why.  So Prompto asks, “Why did you leave?”

“Thought I no longer fit in the picture, eh.  Royalty’s ain’t it for me.  Perhaps Weskham felt the same, too, ‘s why he settled in Accordo and never came back to Lucis.”

Although Prompto can see the parallelism between the two of them in some respects, he knows that they had left their kings for different reasons.

“Did you…regret it?” Prompto asks anyway.

“Well, if I did regret it, it’ll only mean that I regret havin’ my daughter, my granddaughter an’ the Garage.”

“Lucky for you to have them, huh,” Prompto comments, absolutely without a hint of sarcasm.

“I sure ain’t regret my decision, but I’m sure that if I stayed in Lucis, I won’t regret it either.”  The somehow contradicting statement leaves Prompto with a puzzled expression, so Cid continues.  “What I am saying, boy, is that whichever path you choose, eventually you’ll find lotsa reasons why you should an’ shouldn’t regret your decision. 

“For now, maybe you’re findin’ reasons to regret it, but sooner or later you’ll find some that’ll make you feel thankful that you’ve done what you’ve done.

“So hold your head up, boy.”

At first Prompto does not understand, but the longer he contemplates about it, the more he realizes that, well, Cid has a point.  Hell, of course, Cid is talking about his experience and wisdom here, and both actually do come with age.  Maybe such advice is what he really needs at the moment, and the old man has just given him that.  Besides, when was the last time he’s heard heartfelt words from his parents?

“Thanks, old man,” Prompto says with appreciation, because he really does appreciate it.

He just hopes that one day, he’ll find the reason why he shouldn’t regret leaving Noctis. 

“Say, let me marry Cindy already,” Prompto says, which comes out as a joke as intended.  These past few days, he and Cindy sometimes tease each other about it, and both of them clearly understand that it will never be more than a joke. 

“Heh, don’t push your luck too much, kid.”

 

\----------

 

Ignis arrives at the meeting room and sees that Noctis is already there, sitting on his seat at the far end of the long table.  It is a little bit late in the morning, and the King decided to call a council meeting.

“Good morning, Noct,” Ignis greets, and the gesture is returned by the King.

It’s been a few days since Noctis’ return from outside the city, and Ignis hasn’t talked to Noctis about what happened between him and Prompto since then.  Judging by the fact that Noctis was still crestfallen upon his return, he could only conclude that things between the King and the youngest of the group are far from being mended.   

As to the complete details, he is yet to hear it from Noctis since Gladio was not able to witness everything, but as much as possible he doesn’t want to confront Noctis about it until he finds it necessary to do so.  Ignis does reprimand, of course, but he never rubs salt into an open wound.

Only a few moments later, the door opens and the rest of the council—the former King, the Queen, the Shield, and the Marshal—enter the room.  The meeting begins as soon as everybody’s settled down.

Without further ado, Noctis asks Cor to discuss to the council the gist of his latest report to the King.

“My men and the Glaives had spotted a couple of red Imperial ships flying over the Myrlwood.  The ships did not fire at the outpost nor dropped any soldiers or Magitek Armors.  But since they did not heed the warning given by our forces, we considered them as hostiles.”

Ignis is not sure, but thinking about a _red_ Imperial ship rings a bell.  He and Noctis look at each other and silently communicate that they share a common idea about it.

“The artillery managed to hit one of them, but we found no signs of it crashing somewhere,” Cor continues.  “All units are in heightened alert until those ships are located.”

“Good to hear,” Noctis says.  “Given the current condition of our force, how long are we going to stay in the defensive?”

So far, the council is impressed to see how active Noctis is in presiding over a meeting, just like how they envision him to. However, if this means things are finally turning in the right direction for the new King, they still don’t know. 

“I regret that it would take us a month to get ready to initiate an attack to the Empire,” Cor answers straightforwardly.  “The way things are now, an attempt to take down the Empire will require most of our forces, leaving Lucis and the capital city largely undefended.”

Regis—no, _everyone_ in the room knows of the solution to this dilemma: The _barrier._ They need to expand the barrier to cover all of Lucis—once again after what seemed like a decade or so when Regis was still younger and stronger—so they could utilize the maximum potential of their forces in a massive attack against the Empire to end things once and for all.  But as long as the power of the Crystal is being yielded by the weakened former king, the said expansion will only remain a plan.  

Everyone in the room knows this, including Noctis himself, but no one dares to bring it up.

Noctis asks the council for other matters that need discussing, but no more issues are raised.

“Before we conclude this meeting,” Noctis says as he stands up from his seat.  “I would like you to know that I am ready to take the powers of the Crystal.”

Everybody seems astounded by the announcement, that in a long awkward moment all they can do is to look at each other and say nothing.  They quite did not see it coming.

“Very well, then.  We shall prepare for the ceremony at once,” Luna says in their stead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Coeurls are real pain in the ass  
> 2\. We all know that Cid leaving before Regis’ coronation is canon all right
> 
> Soooo it hurts me to place this note here but the next chapter might take a while to be posted, and I am really really really sorry about that TT___TT BUT DON'T WORRY! Prompto's birthday is coming up and I certainly won't miss it for the world ^^
> 
> As usual, thank you for your comments in the previous chapter! You guys really make me happy, y'kno? :'D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Worth a thousand words

A birthday is supposed to be a special day.

That’s what Prompto thought, and he still believes it, to be honest.  However, considering the fact that Lucis is still in the middle of the war with the Empire—hell, just a few days ago there were news all over Lucis of Imperial ships getting past the Lucian outposts—a celebration may not be appropriate at the moment.

That’s what he thought, but other people just don’t share the same idea at all. 

It’s a little late in the morning and the sun is shining high up in the usual clear skies of Hammerhead.  Prompto’s taking a little break from his work in the Garage, resting on a seat on one of the chairs outside the camper when he sees a black car pull over on the space between the mart and the gas pumps.  The car, in its _royal_ color with the emblem of Lucis, of course, could only belong to the royal court.

Prompto does not need to take a guess on who are in the car as the doors on the driver’s and passengers’ side open the moment the purring of the engine comes to a halt, and familiar faces come into his view.

There’s Ignis from the driver’s seat, with Iris and Talcott who runs immediately towards Prompto right after they recklessly shut the car doors behind them. 

“Prompto!” Iris shouts as she and Talcott approach Prompto, and the little boy beats her in hugging the big brother first.

“You guys,” Prompto says, failing to contain his big smile as the three of them squeeze into a group hug.  Prompto sure missed his good friends whom he'd last seen a few days before the royal wedding.  

“Happy birthday,” Iris tells him while the group hug lingers.  Talcott repeats the greeting not long after.

“Thanks, guys.  Thanks.”

The three breaks the hug as Ignis finally approaches them.

“Thought we could drop by and greet you a happy birthday, Prompto,” the Advisor says as he gives Prompto a brief hug, patting his back a couple of times.

“Thanks, Ignis.  ‘Preciate it,” Prompto replies after returning the gesture.

“It’s glad to see that you’re doing well.  Gained quite a few pounds, but still looking absolutely fine.”

“I did not!” Prompto retaliates, although he’s well aware that Ignis meant no insult to his childhood insecurity.

“And so,” the group hears Cindy say on their left. “From what I heard you just kept your birthday a secret from us, sweetheart,” Cindy remarks, her tone nonchalant, quite contrary to her actions when she gives Prompto’s cheek a good, _hard,_ pinch.

“ _Ooowowowww,”_ is what Prompto could only mutter when he tries to get away from such assault. 

“Come on, it’s no big,” Prompto says as Cindy finally lets go of his cheek, now flaming red.  Still, he couldn’t help but grin. 

“Now don’t go tellin’ me your birthday is no big deal ‘coz I’ma tell Takka to prepare sumthin’ real good.”  The group watches as Cindy walk away and towards the diner.

“So, I guess you won’t be cooking this time, huh,” Prompto says as he turns to Ignis.

“I’d rather leave Takka’s kitchen on his own hands,” Ignis replies.

“So, uh,” Iris chimes in.  “We came up with a present for you!”

“We’ve rented chocobos!” Talcott says immediately, with enthusiasm that kids could only have.

“Talcott, that’s supposed to be a _surprise_!” Iris scowls, to which Talcott immediately apologizes with _oops._

Prompto could not help but laugh a little, still very delighted and speechless.  For one thing, he was not expecting his friends to show up and come up with such a sweet deed on his birthday.

“Okay,” he finally tells Talcott.  “I guess we will be running around on chocoboback today, right?”

“Of course!” Talcott immediately replies as Iris hands over the whistle to Prompto.

 

They spend a good couple of hours under the scorching heat of the sun riding around the open field at the back of the Hammerhead (thank gods for the sunscreen otherwise Ignis might have not let them stay under the sun for too long).  A good deal of their time is all about teaching Talcott the basics of chocoboback riding, which they all find enjoyable nonetheless.  Apart from that, Prompto and Iris have a small race in which Prompto loses—but he tells them that he let Iris win anyway. 

Maybe a little birthday celebration isn’t so bad, after all.

It’s already past noon when they decide to take a break.  While Iris and Talcott are feeding the chocobos at the back of the diner, Ignis and Prompto go inside.  They can tell from the delicious smell coming from the kitchen that Takka’s really cooking something good.  There are only a few customers, and they hear Cindy mention something like the diner will close early for the mini birthday celebration.  Prompto thinks that it may have been a little too much, but he sure knows better than to go against Cindy’s decisions.

They sit on the opposite seats of one of the booths, with drinks on their hands, Ignis setting aside the bags he’s carrying which Prompto does not bother to comment on yet.

“So uh,” Prompto says before taking a long sip on the straw on his soda.  He had just drunk a couple of bottled waters earlier, but the thirst that one could only have in this kind of weather is awfully persistent.  “How’re you doing?”

“I’m doing fine, quite busier with the matters at the Citadel but doing fine nonetheless.  Thank you for asking,” Ignis replies as he takes a sip on his own.

Ignis looks outside the window and sees a Glaive sitting on one of the chairs by the camper.  It is the same Glaive that he noticed earlier watching them from a distance while they go around on chocoboback.

“Seems like you’ve always got company,” Ignis finally mentions.

“Oh that,” Prompto sighs when he realizes what Ignis is particularly taking about.  “Well, it took some time getting used to—not that I’m completely used to it already, though.”

Ignis doesn’t reply, but he couldn’t help but frown at the fact that the King is still hung up on Prompto enough to do such things, while at the same time keeping his commitment to the throne and to his marriage with the Oracle.  Ignis, admittedly, could no longer understand Noctis’ actions at all.  At the first place, he never thought that Noctis could ever be so full of _contradictions_.  He rubs his temples with a hand as he lets out a sigh, an action which doesn’t go unnoticed to Prompto.

“Come on, don’t worry about it—it’s not half-bad at all,” Prompto adds when he sees Ignis’ reaction.  He takes another sip on his soda before continuing.  “I actually made friends with some of them—even went on a few hunts with them.  Well, since they are sent to watch over me, I thought, why not keep them company, at least?  They don’t even take their share of the bounty.”

There is a brief moment of silence as the two focus on their drinks. 

“So, uh, how’d you know I am here?” Prompto asks as he finally lets go of his straw, although he’s fairly certain that after coming out from hiding, his location is least likely to go beyond the knowledge of the Advisor.

“Nyx informed me.  Gladio had no idea at all, assuming that he’s not lying.  I am also quite uncomfortable asking Noctis himself, truth be told.”

Ignis can tell the slightest change in Prompto’s expression upon hearing the King’s name.

“Speaking of Gladio,” Ignis continues, with full intention to get Prompto’s thoughts away from Noctis, at least for a moment.  “He apologizes for not being able to come here.  It appears that Shields don’t have that much mobility unlike Advisors.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.”

Ignis reaches for the bags beside him and grabs the large paper bag, placing it on top of the table.

“He just asked me to give you this and greet you a happy birthday on his behalf,” Ignis says as he pushes the bag towards Prompto.

“That big guy,” Prompto chuckles as he peeks on the bag before grabbing the hard, heavy box inside and taking it out.  When he sees half of the box outside the bag, that’s when he realizes that it’s not just a box.  It’s a gun case.

“Holy—" he is about to complete his swearing but Ignis’ glare and arched eyebrow prevents him from doing so.  He turns to the gun case, which, judging from its size, presumably contains a handgun.  He hastily opens the case and sees the present inside.

“Oh gods,” Prompto says, still quite overwhelmed with the present he’s now holding on his hands.  Ignis, of course, knows that the gunman could only be the one in the room to tell a good gun from bad one, so his level of enthusiasm is permissible.  “This baby’s _sick,_ Ignis!  Where on Eos did he buy it?”

“I heard he’s bought it from a blacksmith in the city.  He says it’s custom-made, called the _Executioner_.”

“Please give my thanks to the big guy, would you?”

“Absolutely,” Ignis reaches for another bag beside him, a smaller one.  Instead of giving Prompto the paper bag, he takes the fancy box out from it first.  “Since we have already begun the gift giving, let me give you the present from Queen Lunafreya.”  He gently places the box in front of Prompto, while Prompto places the gun back in the case and locks it. 

“She wants to let you know how regretful she is for not being able to give it to you personally,” Ignis adds.

Unlike his enthusiasm earlier in opening the gun case, Prompto takes his time feeling the silver covering of the box with his fingertips, before lifting the top of the box.  It reveals a pendant inside held in place with foams covered by yellow felt paper, while the rest of the inside of the box is covered by yellow silk.  There’s a card pasted under the top of the box, and he grabs it to read the elegantly handwritten script that kind of brings him back to his childhood days when he had helped Pryna.

_Happy birthday, Prompto.  This charm shall keep you safe wherever you go._

_Love, Luna._

He smiles, that which is a lot more different from his astounded expression when he opened his first present.  This time, his smile is accompanied by a pair of watery eyes and occasional pursing of lips.   

He turns back to the box, and is yet to complete his appreciation of the intricate packaging when he lightly tugs the pendant, pulling with it the thin silver chain attached on it.  The pendant is a white crystal not larger than the two bones of his pinky.  What makes it special is not its perfectly-cut octagonal cylinder shape, but the purplish-blue sylleblossom petal _inside_ it.  He is nothing short of amazed on how such a fine jewel could be crafted.

“How did she know?” Prompto asks, without looking at Ignis as he fixes his gaze on the pendant. 

“That puzzles me either.  She just approached me yesterday evening and asked me to give it to you.”

He keeps his gaze low for a few moments of silence, before finally looking up to Ignis.

“I… uh… Please also tell the Queen that I appreciate her present,” Prompto says.

“I would certainly do, Prompto.”  Ignis reaches for the last bag beside him.  “Or instead, why not thank them _yourself_?”  He sets down a small white box, decorated by blue ribbon, on the table and pushes it to Prompto’s direction.  Prompto has an idea on what could it be, but he opens the box to find out nevertheless.  He undoes the ribbon, lifts the top and sees another box—a box of a brand new phone.  It is the same model as the one that he had disposed of right after he messaged Ignis that he had found a place to settle in.  He had been debating with himself on buying a new one, but the only place he could buy a smart phone is inside the city.

“Gods, Ignis, you shouldn’t have bothered!”

“I beg your pardon but I will certainly find it convenient should you have a device through which we can contact you.”

“But seriously, thanks.”

“I am quite outdated on the latest phone models so please don’t mind it if I got you the same model as the one you had previously.  Its camera may still be a good alternative to your camera, though I suppose it cannot compare.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.”

“Your camera,” Ignis says as he watches Prompto inspect the phone.  “Noct is holding onto it.  I’ve seen it in his office most of the time.”

“Well… at least it’s in good hands,” Prompto shrugs, trying to sound indifferent, but of course, he fails.

Ignis ponders if it is a good decision to mention Noctis, which further steers their conversation towards the dreaded topic.  If he would be frank, really, he has so many things to tell Prompto about, like the fact that Noctis keeps on sleeping in Prompto’s room and not in the royal couple’s headquarters, or in general, how Prompto’s absence had affected Noctis.

But up until now he has no knowledge on what had happened between him and Noctis over a week ago and how Prompto ended up here in Hammerhead, and it is definitely one of the two reasons why he does not want to ask Prompto about anything that concerns it.  The other is that he just doesn’t want to force Prompto to talk about it, at least not on his birthday. 

“So, uh… How’s he doing?” Prompto finally looks up to Ignis.

“He’s doing his best to perform his duties as the King.  Though I must admit, he’s still not the Noctis we all used to know. 

“But he’s trying, and I believe that it’s an important thing right now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Prompto replies, and Ignis is somehow relieved to see him smile.  It is quite pained, not anywhere near his usual smile, but it should suffice.

Ignis finishes the rest of his drink, the ices already disappeared.  He just hopes that Prompto would not take his ambiguity the bad way.

 

The sun is about to set when Iris, Talcott and Ignis excuse themselves from the celebration.  Talcott cannot help but talk about how delicious that _Sizzling Humongo-Steak_ is _._

Once more, Iris wishes Prompto a happy birthday before pecking his cheek.

“Thanks again, guys.  Take care,” Prompto says as he watches Iris and Talcott sit inside the car, the two happily waving to him.

Ignis does not immediately get inside the car, as there is actually no need to hurry since it would only take several minutes for them to reach the Crown City Checkpoint, so there's no need to fear that daemons would spawn along the way.

"Ignis, thanks for everything today,"  Prompto tells the advisor.  "You guys made me happy, you know?  Thanks."

"It has been a pleasure, Prompto.  It's one of the things I would certainly do for a friend."

“I um…” Prompto says, rubbing his nape.  “I’m sorry for… you know?  Many things.  For one, I had abandoned my duties as a Crownsguard.”

“I do not see any reason for you to apologize to me,” Ignis shrugs as he adjusts his glasses on his nose bridge.  “You did what you have to do.  Though it is indeed true that we have lost a good soldier, a good friend, but… you did what you have to do.”

He takes a step forward to Prompto and pats the younger one’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, it just takes courage to do so,” he says before turning to the car and opens the door to the driver's seat.  “Take good care of yourself, Prompto.  Please do remember that the doors of the Citadel are always open for you.” 

He rolls down the tinted window and says goodbye to Prompto before finally driving away.

 

When Prompto goes back to the diner, he sees Cindy setting up the karaoke machine and plugging it into the large screen.  He never thought that the diner had one, but as Cindy puts it, the machine is _reserved for special occasions._ He is amazed on how hyped Cindy still is even when the sun’s already going down.

As it turns out, Cindy is not just a singer, but also a performer who cannot stop singing songs in a row before finally handing the microphone to the birthday celebrant himself.  Prompto could be shy sometimes, but he does not want to spoil the fun especially when Cid, Takka and Cindy are enjoying it so he sings just one _pop_ song before handing the microphone back to Cindy.  The Glaive who’s assigned to guard him also did not shy away and joined the party instead.

Despite all the music, he hears a familiar sound outside.  He hears it—that low, humming sound.  It may have been quite a while since he last heard that, but he is certain that it’s the purr of the engine of the _Regalia._ He’s worked quite a while in the Garage to know that the sound of the Regalia is as unique as it gets.

He dismisses his thoughts, ‘cause for all he knows it’s just his imagination.  His rational thinking tells him that it is highly improbable that the Regalia would be there, for more reasons than he could count.

After a few minutes, or after Cindy finishes another song to be more precise, he hears it again.  He wants to dismiss it again for the second time, so he joins Cid and Cindy in cheering for Takka to take on the microphone (which he does after a little bit of convincing).

Takka starts singing (and hell, the man could sing as well), and Prompto does not hear the sound again.  But now that hasn’t gone out to check it earlier, he couldn’t shake off the nagging curiosity at the back of his mind.  He almost jumps from his seat when he hears another sound, but this time, he could tell that it is from a different car, a sound that is common to many car engines.  He thinks that he might have just imagined hearing the Regalia earlier, maybe he just misses the old, classic pal.   

Still, he subtly stands and walks outside, not wanting to disturb everyone.

The sun has completely set, and the lights were automatically switched on.  His eyes scan the stretch of the road as far as he can see, but there are no signs of any car parked on the roadside.  Instead, he sees yet another black car parked by the gas pumps in front of the mart, similar to the one used by Nyx and other Crownsguard and Kingsglaive.  It’s the standard-issued car for the Lucian forces, he thinks, whose engine definitely does not sound anywhere near that of the Regalia.  He supposes that another Glaive has arrived to switch places with the currently assigned one, or buy curatives from the mart, or, whatever.

What does he expect to see anyway?

He turns back to the diner and is utterly surprised of finding a tall figure standing in front of him before he could take a few steps forward. 

“ _Astrals,_ Cor!  You’ve scared the shit outta me!” he exclaims when he recognizes the presence before he could pull his gun from his holster in instinct, and he is just thankful that he did not.

“Happy birthday, kid,” the Marshal greets with a smug on his face.  He pats Prompto’s head and makes it a point to almost destroy the blonde’s hairdo.  “I suppose you still have leftovers for me.”

“Come on, Sir, the party’s just begun!” He finds it funny that the Marshal, the Commander of the Crownsguard still remembers his former soldier’s birthday.  Now that he remembers it, Cor had also greeted him last year when he was still training to be a part of the force.

Cor invites himself inside the diner without waiting for the birthday celebrant, and Prompto can hear from outside that the group is pleased to see him.

Prompto looks behind him, again, for the last time, he promises himself, only to _not_ see anything once again.  If he should feel disappointed, that, he doesn’t know.  He is about to go back inside the diner when he sees on his peripheral something unusual on his parked motorbike.  When he turns to it, he sees a large black box on its seat.

Cautiously, he approaches the motorcycle parked beside the mart.  The box is not too tall but wide, about the square of a foot and a half, wrapped with a yellow silk ribbon on top which is a stark contrast to the black color of the box itself.  In the absence of a card outside the box, there may be no other way than to look inside it.

But who the hell leaves a present on like that?

He carefully undoes the ribbon and lifts the top of the box, setting it aside.  The contents are covered by a couple of layers of onion skin paper, and with trembling hands, with hesitation, he removed them one by one.

There, by the bright bluish white anti-demon lights of the outpost, he sees the present beneath.  It sure is a _present,_ or to be more specific, the one that he had received on his _18 th _birthday.

He lifts it from the unzipped camera bag, his hands remembering the oh-so familiar feeling of having it.  It looks just the same as when he’s left it in the Citadel.

He switches it on and he’s quite glad that it still has charge—a full-battery charge even.  The display shows the most recently taken photo, as it’s supposed to, but the thing is that Prompto does not remember taking the photo that comes into the display.  Sure, it had been a while since he’s held his camera but he’s pretty sure that the last photo he’s taken is that of Noctis getting ready for his wedding.

Right.

But instead, he sees a picture of the rising sun; its warm rays were barely visible in the horizon past the wall.  Such angle was made visible by the height where the shot was taken—and Prompto knows, of course.  He remembers the mornings he would wake up to such a wonderful view through the ceiling-high windows, and how he would appreciate having one of the few rooms in the Citadel facing east, despite the fact that he had stayed there for only a few days.

Not wanting to read more on the picture, he presses the arrow key to browse through the rest of the stored photos, and there he finally sees the shot of Noctis getting ready for his wedding, followed by some other shots that he definitely remembers taking. 

He rummages inside the box again, and aside from the camera bag and his accessories that go with the camera, he sees a printed photo inside.  He grabs it to see it better with the help of the lights and realizes that it is the very same photo of the sunrise that he saw first on the display. 

He instinctively flips the photo, without any particular reason why, but he’s somehow glad that he does when he sees something written at the back of it.

The script is as elegant as Luna’s handwriting, but not as smooth, not as elaborate.  It’s definitely written by a man raised in royalty, except that man is a lazy simpleton.

And it’s been like that since they were in high school.

_Happy 21 st Birthday.  _

He wants to laugh, somehow, at how ridiculously inappropriate the written message is to the photograph.  Or maybe if he would think about what the picture means, he would better understand the unspoken and unwritten words that go along with it.  But he wouldn’t, ‘cause it always boils down to the fact that he does not want to _expect_ anything.

He wants to laugh, but his tears go ahead of his chuckles, turning him into a smiling and sobbing mess.  He could only hope that nobody in the diner would hear him.

“Noct, you idiot,” he mumbles to the humid evening air as he rubs his eyes with the back of his free hand.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. You can actually find the Executioner at the Glacial Grotto secret dungeon in Chapter 15, just sayin’  
> 2\. This is Prompto-centric, you have been warned. Oh wait this is an end-note
> 
> SooooOOOOoooo! I'm really really really sorry that this Chapter came a bit too late, tho a bit too early for Prompto's birthday (tho at the first place I intended to upload it as early as last week but who cares anyway)! As you can see, I went very easy on this one, 'cause yeah, it's Prompto's birthday so let's give him a break ok
> 
> BUT! In the next chapter I'll bring back some tension and action as we set the stage for the final conflict! 
> 
> (Next chapter will be uploaded in two weeks and the weekly updates will resume thereafter *cries over the business of real life and the fact that I am a slow writer*)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. To forgive, divine

As soon as Noctis sets foot in the throne room, the tall doors close behind him, leaving the Crownsguards at the other side.  It is early in the morning, and the warm sunlight coming through the large windows on both sides of the throne somehow eliminate the need for the chandeliers to be lit. 

It has been a while when he had last gone to this room—his last memory of this room is his wedding ceremony with Luna.  Since then, even though he is now crowned the King of Lucis, it had been an unspoken rule that he shall not take a seat on the throne until he completes his ascension through the blessings of the Crystal and of the Astrals.

He sees his father up the steps, but instead of sitting on the throne, the former King stands beside it, gesturing for his son to go up the stairs.  Noctis complies wordlessly, climbs up until the landing where the steps split into two staircases that lead to the throne itself. 

Regis walks down the right staircase and meets Noctis on the landing.

“I wanted to believe that it has been a long time when I sent you off on your journey outside the walls,” Regis tells him.  “Reality, however, tells me that only a few months had passed since then.”

Of course, Noctis remembers.  Everything was so sudden—back then the Palace was in a haste preparing for the signing of the peace treaty, that he had little time to prepare for his trip to Altissia and to properly say his goodbyes to his father—whom he had nearly lost due to the Empire’s treachery.  He remembers it—he was on the very same place, on the very same landing, together with his retinue. 

Everything was so sudden, back then.  Suddenly, he was forced to grow up.  Suddenly, he was forced to face his own destiny.

He wants to chuckle, to laugh about how gods can be cruel, but for some reason he doesn’t.  Doing so is pointless, anyway.

Regis does not, either.  If anything, between him and Noctis he is the one who knew better how the gods can be cruel, especially when he remembers the exact moment the Astrals bestowed upon Noctis his fate—he was just a kid back then, a kid who cannot make a choice for himself yet.  He wished he could be the father who could have protected his son from the cruelty of the world; however, reality has it that he could not do anything but watch as his son walks down his own path.  

If he could, he would bear the burden of the Lucis Caelum bloodline forever, or maybe end it in his generation.  But such is against the will of the Astrals—they are expecting for _this_ moment to unfold. 

He temporarily does not lean on his cane in order to use his hand to take off his ring from the other. 

“You must have already known that the Ring of the Lucii bears the power of all Kings of Lucis who had passed,” Regis says as he holds the black ring between his thumb and index finger, holding it towards Noctis.  “This also allows the Lucian bloodline to wield the Crystal’s powers.”

Noctis reaches out his hand, slowly, and Regis puts the ring at the center of his palm, enfolding his son’s fingers around it. 

“The ring chooses only those who are deemed worthy of its immense powers,” Regis continues, firmly holding Noctis’ gaze.  “Fear not, my son, for the Astrals had already chosen you.  You just have to believe in yourself.”

Noctis opens his hand and looks at the ring, whose gem shines brightly upon contact with the sunlight.  This is the first time he had seen the ring up close now that it is no longer worn by his father. 

“Wear it when you’re ready, my son,” Regis adds.

If he wanted to, he could take his father’s word for it.  He knows, of course, that wearing it would mean that he is asserting that he is the rightful one to bear and wield its power as well as the Crystal’s.  And that wearing it marks the point of no return.

And because he knows those things that he thinks he cannot afford to waste any more time.

Noctis thinks it would be as simple as putting a ring on his finger (because that’s what it should be), but as he tries to bring the ring closer to his right hand, there is this force that prevents his finger from meeting the ring.  It’s like trying to put together similar poles of two magnets, magnets that are so strong to repulse each other even if they’re still five inches apart. 

Both his hands tremble violently as he tries hard, and harder, potentially draining away all his strength, until he eventually succeeds.  The moment the ring finally fits the base of his finger, blue filaments of light splinter around him, and his vision flickers as a forceful impact knocks him down and his knees give out.  He braces his hands on the floor to keep himself from completely falling on it, and at last, he is able to let out the breath that he is unknowingly holding until now. 

Regis is about to reach a hand to help Noctis get back on his feet but decides against it.  Instead, he watches as Noctis catches his breath and slowly regains his balance as he places his hands on his knees and stands up. 

The former King looks at his son, as if silently asking him if he’s alright.  Noctis nods in response, holding his father’s gaze, and Regis is certain that those eyes are burning with determination—which is good, he thinks, as he knows too well that this is just but one of the things his son must do, that he has a long way to go, and that Noctis is yet to receive the powers of the Crystal. 

 

\----------

 

“A pleasant morning, Your Grace,” Ignis greets as he bows before the Queen.  He has been summoned by Luna in her study, though he is yet to know the reason why.

“May you also have a pleasant morning, Sir Ignis,” Luna responds as she sets down her cup of tea on the small round coffee table by the window.  She gestures for the Advisor to take the other seat opposite to hers.  “Would you also like to have a cup of tea?”

“Thank you for your kindness but I would like to refuse, Your Grace,” Ignis mentions as he takes his seat.  It just occurred to him that Luna is yet to know of his preference of Ebony over tea.

“Please let me get straight to the point regarding the purpose of this conversation,” Luna says as she inches her seat closer to the table.  “This is about Ardyn.”

Ignis swallows hard upon hearing the name that he hasn’t heard of in a while.  He shifts his weight as he tries to find a comfortable posture—he knows that this discussion would be more serious than expected.  “Please go on, Your Grace.”

“I… had come across him a few days ago.”

 

\----------

\----------

 

“We’re already at the Crown City Checkpoint,” Nyx told the Marshall on the other end of the line through his earpiece.  “Standing by for further instructions.”

“The Queen is arriving there at any minute now,” he heard Cor reply.  “I shall be leaving her safety in your hands, Captain.  Please proceed with the plan as discussed.”

By _plan,_ the Marshal meant accompanying the Queen as she would visit a couple of settlements to cure those infected by the Starscourge, bringing her back to the City before sundown, and ensuring her safety in between. Of course, Nyx thought it was a bad idea to risk the Queen’s safety outside the walls, but he knew better than to challenge the decisions of royalty.

The Captain and pairs of Crownsguards and Glaives assigned to this task were waiting at the Checkpoint.  True to the Marshall’s words, the Queen arrived soon in a black car driven by a Crownsguard who got out of the car as soon as he pulled over.  He saluted at the Captain when Nyx approached him, and Nyx took over the driver’s seat after returning the gesture.  Simultaneously, the rest of the team went inside the other car in the convoy.

Before anything else, he twisted on his seat to face the Queen at the backseat as he greeted, “Good morning, Your Grace.”

Luna smiled at him fondly, genuinely, just like how Nyx had remembered, as she also greeted, “Good morning, Nyx.  It has been quite a while.”

Nyx noticed that the Queen was wearing a seemingly casual white sleeveless and knee-long dress.  Strange enough, though, it was a rare sight for the Queen to carry the trident with her.  The lengthy weapon was lying diagonally on the backseat, its thorns resting on her lap.

“Yeah, it’s been quite a while,” Nyx answered as he shifted the gear, pushed down the hand brake and drove away, and they were immediately followed by the rest of the convoy.

 

The entire trip to a settlement located south of Duscae near the Kettier Highlands was uneventful and comprised mostly of awkward silence.  Luna had tried engaging Nyx into conversations, but the Captain had given only short responses which did not allow for the continuity of discussion.  Luna knew that Nyx had been distant since her marriage with Noctis, and as much as she wanted to talk to Nyx about it, she knew that there were more important matters than that.  For Nyx, that is.

Their arrival to the settlement was too conspicuous that the Queen was surrounded by people in a matter of seconds upon setting foot on the ground.  Almost everyone was trying to talk to the Queen, and it was, somehow, too much for the Lucian soldiers to handle.  Nyx did not know how, but they actually _did_ manage, and after the Queen healed the individuals infected by the Starscourge they were able to leave the area without a hitch. 

On their way to the next settlement, Nyx almost told Luna how he was truly amazed by how she was able to cure all those people, but he did not.  It was cowardly of him, he knew, and he regretted not being able to say it when he noticed through the rear view mirror how such benevolent act caused her to be exhausted. 

It was just a few minutes of driving, and unlike the first settlement the next one did not have too many people to handle.  After curing a couple of infected, they thought the job of the Oracle was already done, but a resident told Luna that a man living on the house uphill has also been seen exhibiting the symptoms of the plague.  Without even thinking twice, Luna told Nyx that they would be heading to the said house.

It wasn’t that much of a distance from the settlement, but a trek uphill seemed overwhelming to the Queen who was already tired from all the healing, not to mention that she was also carrying the Trident with her.  Nyx offered to carry the weapon for her, and of course, Luna politely refused the kindness.  

When they caught sight of the house in question, the first thing they noticed was how the lone house in the middle of dense trees was literally sealed from the world—aside from closed doors, all its windows were barricaded with wooden planks and any other type of material to block the view of the inside from the outsiders.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Your Grace,” Nyx finally tells Luna.

“I wish to proceed, Nyx,” Luna replies with utter conviction. 

“Alright.”  With the Queen using such a tone, how could anyone disagree?

He knocked on the door a couple of times, and when he was convinced that it was futile, he opened the door which was surprisingly unlocked.  Considering the sealed windows, the house was mostly dark, and only the light coming from the opened door provided the needed illumination.  Nyx switched on his chest flashlight in intent to further investigate the house, only to see that aside from furniture and implements thrown all over the place, it was devoid of human presence. 

“Anybody here?” he cried, leading the party as they venture further inside of what seemed like a living room, though he had no intention to check the remaining rooms one by one.  As expected, there was no response at all.  “There’s no one here, Your Grace,” Nyx told Luna.  “We shall leave at once.”

Luna was about to express her agreement, but everyone’s attention was piqued when they heard a peculiar sound coming from one of the rooms—they weren’t sure if it was a cry or a scream, but they were most certain that it wasn’t anywhere near _human_. 

“Let’s leave now, go go go,” Nyx said as he practically pushed everyone to the open door, but before they could step out of the house, they all sensed _something_ charging towards them.  Two soldiers were able to draw out their weapons in time and one of them was able to parry what could be considered as an attack of a pair of sharp _claws._ They were still in the dark and their chest lights were not enough to define what they were actually facing.

The two soldiers volunteered to hold the entity—whatever it is—off to enable the Captain and the two other soldiers to bring the Queen to safety.  Without further ado Nyx led the way as the rest of the party ran outside the house but instantly stopped on his tracks when he saw someone standing before them. 

“You—" Nyx uttered the moment he recognized the man—with that fedora, that red-violet hair and that amber eyes.  His first instinct was to step back and protectively extend his arms holding his daggers sideways to shield the Queen from the ominous presence in front of him.  The two other guards beside Luna raised their weapons as well.

“It is a surprise, my Queen, for I did not expect for you to be with a man other than the King himself,” Ardyn says, with that usual spiteful smile.

Saving any form of introduction, in a blink of an eye Ardyn strikes his sword to Nyx who was fortunate enough to ward off the attack—attack which the Captain knew was a warp-strike.  He was outright confused as to how Ardyn could have such an ability he thought was exclusive for the Lucis Caelums and their loyal soldiers. 

“Oh, I remember—you’re the _hero_ of Insomnia,” Ardyn said as he took a step back.

The two other soldiers surrounding the Queen was about to get her to run and escape, and Nyx could hear that one of them was in the process of calling for reinforcements through his earpiece.

“Too soon, lads,” Ardyn said as he shot fumes of red light to the guards which, in just a matter of seconds, surrounded their necks which elicited strangled noises from them and knocked them unconscious.  “Too soon.”

If the two guards were dead, neither Nyx nor Luna would know.

Seeing what Ardyn did, the Captain did not hesitate to initiate the successive attacks, though each of them was fended off by the man’s ridiculously graceful swordsmanship.  He knew it was of no use—he would not be able to land a scratch on that man’s stoic façade—but he couldn’t think of a way of getting the Queen out of the harm’s way.

After several clashes of weapons which echoed throughout the forest, a forceful attack from Ardyn sent Nyx flying a few yards away from him.  Nyx was able to land on his feet, but as he was regaining his focus, Ardyn was already in front of him, probably warped his way to him as he saw some red shards of crystal.

_Shit—_

He didn’t feel it at first, but eventually he felt the cold metal piercing in his abdomen and smelled iron.  He could not help but scream in pain as Ardyn withdrew his knife—not his sword, though—and let himself fall onto the ground, curling into a fetal position in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain.  He looked up to Ardyn and saw that oh-so-satisfied snicker, before the man turned to where the Queen was standing.

“Get away from her, you bastard!”  Nyx yelled while he still had the strength to do so, before streams of blood made their way out of his mouth and before Ardyn casted upon him the same fumes of red light.  It made him paralyzed and prevented him from reaching for the vials of elixir on his pocket.

Luna assumed a firm stance and raised the Trident in front of her, pointing it directly to Ardyn’s face.

“I see you have the Trident with you,” Ardyn commented as he approached the Queen in an agonizingly slow pace. 

“Don’t you dare come any closer,” Luna said, in a firm, commanding tone, bereft of nerves, of panic.  Still, Ardyn was unfazed by it.

“You do know how important the Trident is to the King himself, how vital it is for the success of his ascension to the throne and in receiving the Crystal’s powers.”

Without warning he swung his sword to the Oracle, but she blocked the attack using the Trident.  Both her slender arms trembled due to the sheer force, although they kept resisting.

“But now you brought it here with you,” Ardyn continued, still pushing through the attack, as if he was waiting for the Queen to give out.  “Beyond the safety of the walls, at risk of getting taken away by _anyone._ I never once thought that the Oracle could be _this_ reckless.”

Ardyn let go of the attack, but in one swift motion he sliced his sword on Luna’s side.  To his surprise—to his absolute surprise—he heard another clashing of metal on metal instead of _metal on skin_.  He noticed that the Queen blocked the attack as well. 

He quickly withdrew his sword at took a half step back, but maybe he did underestimate Luna too much, or maybe he let his guard down, that the Queen was able to thrust the Trident to his face.  If he was not able to dodge at the last second, he would have already lost an eye (although just temporarily), but he just got away with a long slice stretching from his cheek to his ear. 

Luna withdrew her Trident immediately and resumed her defensive position, but Ardyn showed no signs of advancing once more as his weapon dissipated into red fumes.  He let a deep laugh which dragged on for several seconds.  It was so menacing that it sent shivers down Luna and Nyx’s spine.

Ardyn gave the Queen one final look with that pair of amber eyes before he turned his back and started walking away.

“When the prophecy is fulfilled, all in thrall to darkness shall know peace,” Luna told Ardyn before he could walk away any further.  Quite surprisingly, the man was stopped by her words and turned to face Luna once more. 

“Please do send my regards to the King,” Ardyn said with that cunning smile as he tipped his fedora to the Queen, before turning away and vanishing in a red cloud of light. 

As soon as any traces of Ardyn disappeared, Luna hurried to Nyx.  She forced him to lie on his back and saw that the wound was bleeding even worse than expected.  She placed a hand on the wound, closed her eyes as her hand glowed a warm yellow light, but was instantly interrupted when Nyx held her wrist.

“Don’t,” he said, and it was undoubted that it took most of his strength to say any word. “You’re already tired as it is.”

With all his remaining strength he tried to reach for his pockets to no avail.  Luna did not waste more second and overtook the task as she reached for his pockets fumbled for a bottle of an elixir—though she wasn’t sure, it could be a potion, but it didn’t matter as any curative would do.  She broke the bottle right above the wound and saw blue sparkles covered Nyx.  As soon as the light subsided, she inspected the wound through the ripped fabric and saw that the cut had already closed and blood stopped flowing from it.

They noticed that the two soldiers from the house had already emerged and came to aid the other two that, apparently, had just undergone temporary unconsciousness.  In a matter of seconds they were all back on their feet.  The two soldiers, with all their cuts and bruises, reported to Nyx that the entity—a daemon—had been dealt with accordingly. 

“What was that?”  Nyx asked Luna as he was regaining his strength to stand up with the help of the two Glaives.  “How would a daemon spawn in the afternoon while there was still light?”

“What you saw is what will become of those who are infected with the Starscourge at the final stages of the infection,” Luna answered.  “They become daemons.”

The soldiers looked at each other, shocked from what they just heard. 

 

They went with their original formation in the convoy on their way back to the Crown City Checkpoint, with Nyx driving for the Queen.  The soldiers had insisted in driving in his place, but he was too stubborn to let them have their way. 

“I’m sorry,” he told the Queen, and he did not bother to use honorifics this time.  “For not being able to do much to protect you.”

Luna shakes her head before saying, “Don’t be.  You have done enough, and I was very much grateful for that.”

As much as he found comfort in Luna’s words, he still hated that _feeling_.  That feeling of facing someone he could not match up against to, that feeling of being helpless, that feeling of being unable to carry out his duty to protect the Queen _._

“What are his motives for all of these?” He asked.  He did not know for what purpose he did it, but he did.

“I am afraid that no one knows exactly of what motivation drives him.  And I do reckon that even the Astrals find his actions rather bizarre—not following a defined objective or purpose.”

_But now you brought it here with you, beyond the safety of the walls, at risk of getting taken away by anyone._

“But I think I have an idea now.”

Her last statement made Nyx look at her through the rearview mirror.  Nyx saw that look in her eyes once again—the same piercing eyes she had while defending herself from Ardyn.

 

“Please take care of Prompto in any way you can,” Luna told Nyx as they passed by the road junction next to Hammerhead.  In a matter of minutes they would be reaching the Checkpoint.

“Rest assured, Your Grace,” Nyx replied.  He did not know why, but he had the feeling that the Queen valued Prompto so much. 

“And please, take good care of yourself.”

Nyx chuckled first, before saying, “Asking me to take care of myself while being a good soldier might be a little bit too much, Your Grace.”

Luna smiled, but she did not laugh.  She knew that Nyx had gone through enough in this war, and such fact simply pained her.

“I have one more favor to ask of you,” Luna adds.  “I would most appreciate it if our encounter with Ardyn would remain a secret between us and your men.”

Nyx was about to protest at the idea, but he did not.  He just wanted to trust her, that’s all.

“Don’t worry about it, Your Grace.  Though you might not be convincing considering the state of the dress you’re wearing.”

“I could always dismiss it as nothing but a frustrated attack of a beast which injured you.”

At last, they both smiled, and the mood just got a bit lighter.  However, it only took a few moments for them to return to _that_ silence once again. 

She was still considering telling Nyx the things she had been dying to say earlier in the day.  But maybe, she wouldn’t. 

Until she decided that maybe, this should be another thing that she must forgo.

 

The unit that should escort the Queen back to the city were already there the moment they arrived at the Checkpoint.  Nyx left the driver’s seat to the same Crownsguard who had driven the car in the morning.  Before they proceed, the Queen rolled down the window and nodded to Nyx, and the Captain bowed down to her in return.

Nyx watched as the Queen’s convoy drove down the road back to the city, and was quite alarmed when the sun had already set, about ten minutes earlier than expected.  He was sure that the sun _did not set_ , though—to be more precise, it disappeared behind the cloak of darkness before it even touched the horizon. 

With all the strange things that had been going on lately, he did not know how things were making sense, but it was undoubted that the nights were growing longer with each passing day. 

“Mission accomplished, Commander,” he told Cor through his earpiece as soon as the transmission went through.  He was well aware that his confident tone reflected nothing of what kind of a day it had been.

“Good work, Captain,” Cor replied from the other end of the line.  “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nah.  I have strong men who could have made it just as successful.”

“That may be true but the Oracle particularly asked for the Captain himself to accompany her.”

“Wh—" Nyx was about to confirm what he thought he’s heard but he noticed that the Marshall already cut off the line.

He wanted to dismiss it as one of the jokes of the Marshall to tease him, or a wise strategic choice of the Queen.

But still, he couldn’t stop smiling.

 

\----------

\----------

 

“It is undoubted that Ardyn knows of the prophecy,” Luna tells Ignis.  “And of what the Astrals are plotting against him.”

“He knows that Noctis will bring forth his inevitable demise,” Ignis says, in a non-assertive tone, but rather in a tone asking for validation.

“That is certainly the reason why at first, I do believe that he will do anything he could to stop Noctis from his ascension as the True King.  After all, it would have been a rational thing to do to serve his ends.”

“But so far, his actions denote otherwise,” Ignis points out his most recent realization.

“Precisely.  He had helped the four of you gain access to the Disc of Cauthess, hadn’t he?”

“Yes, he had, Your Grace.”

“Back in Altissia, it would have been very easy for him to kill me way before I could have performed the ritual for the communion to the Leviathan.  Doing so would have kept Noctis from obtaining the favor of the Leviathan.

“And when I had met him a few days ago, he could have taken the trident so Noctis’ ascension would have been incomplete.”

“I suppose you do not think that Chancellor Izunia is ready to accept his fate in the hands of the King.”

“Definitely, such is not the case, Sir Ignis.  We shall take into account the fact that he has been one of the main instigators of the war between the Empire and Insomnia.”

The next couple of seconds is enveloped by silence, with Luna staring blankly outside the window, her delicate fingers tracing the handle of her tea cup.

“What are you thinking, Your Grace?” Ignis asks curiously.

“The Chancellor wanted to make Noctis weak,” Luna answers, bringing back her gaze—that fierce gaze—to the Advisor.  “He wanted Noctis to be as close as to fulfilling the prophecy, to make him believe that he has the upper hand.  And at the last minute he would do anything in his power to stop that from happening.  In order to do that, he shall make Noctis as weak as possible, and this war is only a stalling tactic of his.”

Not knowing how to respond, Ignis almost leaves his mouth agape as he is finding the words to say.  He is undeniably amazed by the insights of the Queen herself, and how confident she is about them considering the evidences she just mentioned.  But the reason why the Queen tells him such important matters remains a mystery to him.  He is glad, for sure, that the Queen finds a confidant in him, the same way that he is sure that the Queen has a good reason not to tell the Royal Council, including the King himself.  

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but may I ask why we are keeping this a secret to the King himself,” he asks anyway.

“You certainly do know the reason why, Sir Ignis.  Kindly tell me what you think.”

Somehow taken aback by the unexpected answer from Luna, Ignis lays back on his chair before saying what she wishes to hear.

“I do believe that the King, being wayward as he is, is likely to make rather impulsive decisions. Telling him such matters might cause him to make haste of fulfilling the prophecy.  Besides,” Ignis pauses mid-sentence when he realizes what he is about to say.  He glances at the Queen, thinking of another thing to say, a way out of the blunder he’s almost committed.  Cutting his sentence may be an option, too, but the Queen’s gaze is fixated on him.

The Queen is expecting for the continuation of his statement. 

Is it alright to tell the Queen herself that her King’s heart is still broken over his _former lover_?

Of course, Luna definitely knows that something else is going on—hell, a month after the wedding, the royal couple is yet to consummate their marriage.  Ignis has zero intention of walking on the thin ice anytime soon. 

“Besides,” Ignis continues after he clears his throat.  “Recently, he is greatly overwhelmed by the duties and responsibilities conferred to him.  Everything has just taken a toll on him, so to speak, and he is yet to clear his mind.”

Luna smiles, before lifting her cup and taking a sip on it.  If such smile is a display of satisfaction or simply nonchalance, Ignis doesn’t know.  But he thinks that the Queen has not entirely seen through him.

…Or so he thinks.

“Let me apologize, Sir Ignis, for this conversation may not have been necessarily fruitful,” Luna says, setting down her cup of tea once more. 

“Please do not, Your Grace.  As a matter of fact, you’ve done a great help in shedding light on important matters.  Though I must admit, I could not think yet of a way to be of any help to the King.”

“Do not fret, my lord.  Noctis needs all of us to lend him strength in his struggle.  We shall be his guide so that he shall not be lost in darkness.”

“I shall keep your word in mind.  Thank you, Your Grace.”

 

\----------

 

Noctis cannot remember the last time he went inside the Crystal’s chamber at the heart of the Citadel.  As far as he can recall, he was just a kid back then, when his father brought him there to have a good look on the Crystal, the heritage of the Lucis Caelum.  The memory seems so distant, now that he’s finally standing in front of the doors of the chamber for a much more different reason.

“Noctis,” he hears someone say, and he doesn’t have to turn to know that it is Luna, approaching him.  She’s wearing a white dress—like she usually does—together with a silver coat with long flowing tails decorated with intricate floral patterns.  She’s carrying the Trident, the weapon that has been passed along many generations of the Oracles.  And now she is about to pass it on to Noctis, ending the longstanding legacy for a greater purpose.

“What if I mess it up, Luna,” Noctis asks, trying to avert his gaze from Luna.  He is afraid that making eye contact with her will reveal the extent of his fear. 

“You are not going to mess anything up, Noctis,” Luna says, taking a step closer to Noctis, silently requiring him to look at her in the eye, and that’s all it takes for Noctis to do so.  With her free hand, she reaches for Noctis’ right hand, lifts it up, and presses it onto his chest.  “You shall listen to what your heart says and be true to it.”

Luna lets go of his hand, but not of his gaze.  Noctis does not withdraw his hand from his chest, either.  A couple more moments and she turns to the doors and pushes them open, however, she does not wait for Noctis to follow and lets the doors close behind her.

It does not take too long before Noctis takes a deep breath, clenches the hand on his chest into a ball, and finally opens the doors. 

 

Aside from the Queen, inside the chamber he finds his father, his Shield, his Advisor and Gentiana, the Messenger.  They stand on either sides of the room, with Luna at the center, in front of the hexagonal cylinder which stretches up to the ceiling, containing the Crystal itself. 

Everyone looks at him as he takes the steps toward the center of the room, towards Luna.  When he stops at an ample distance, Luna gives him one final look before she turns around to the cylinder whose walls begin retracting, revealing the Crystal inside.  She holds the Trident in front of her with two hands, and in a moment, the weapon glows a golden light which is joined together with the blue light emanating from the Crystal. 

Sort of captivated by the spectacle, Noctis is somehow caught off-guard when the Armiger suddenly activates, surrounding him a crystal specter of all the royal weapons he has acquired so far. 

Luna turns to him and takes a couple of steps toward Noctis.  She gently lays the Trident horizontally atop both her palms, extending her reach to the King.  Noctis looks at her, before he grabs the Trident with a hand.

She steps back and watches as the Trident, now being held by Noctis, glow a bluish-white light.  Noctis lets go of the weapon, but it does not fall into the ground—it floats into the air, slowly, until it turns to point toward him and swiftly pierces his chest as it joins the rest of the royal weapons in the Armiger.  Blue shards of crystal fly around him as the Armiger spun around rapidly before resuming its low speed.

His father then walks to stand in front of him, and it’s only when he notices that Regis is carrying his sword with him.  He holds the grip reversely—its point almost scraping the floor—and brings it closer to Noctis.  Noctis grabs it by the end of the grip and Regis lets go.  They all watch as the sword does the same thing the Trident did a few moments ago, until it finally completes the Armiger. 

Once again, blue shards of crystal scatter all over the place, however, instead of disappearing immediately, they multiply to the point of filling the entire room.  In a blink of an eye the room is filled with white blinding light—and suddenly, Noctis is all alone, floating in an empty space, surrounded by strands of lights of various colors in the spectrum, similar to the kind of light that a prism reflects.

 

“The fate of this world falls to the King of Kings,” he hears a voice say—a voice so deep that it is impossible to belong to a human. 

“What is this place?” he turns around, and an Astral is there—an enormous being, covered with dark blue and golden armor embellished with a number of swords.  From what he can see, he ponders that the Astral is who the legend calls _Bahamut_.

“The heart of the Crystal,” the Astral says, “Wherein lies the soul of the star.  And it is in this place that the King will gain the power to fulfill his calling.

“Only by the True King’s hand can the immortal Accursed be banished and the light restored to this world.  Only the True King, chosen by the Crystal and guarded by his forebears can end the Accursed’s madness. 

“In order to do that the True King shall know of his sacrifices—the things he shall lose so the prophecy will be fulfilled.”

An explosion of bright, white light surrounded him—closing his eyes and covering them with both his arms are not enough to save his eyes from such a blinding light.

“These are not merely your memories,” he hears Bahamut say, although the Astral is nowhere to be found in the middle of such brightness.  “These are the things that you are about to lose.”

He closes his eyes for another good couple of seconds until he perceives that the brightness abruptly turned into an absolute absence of light.  Another good moment later, and suddenly, it is warm.  It has been a while since he felt such warmth. 

 

\----------

 

He opened his eyes, to identify the source of such warmth, only to see the sun—not the one that was peeking through the curtains of his apartment window, but the one that was sleeping peacefully beside him.  Prompto was facing him, with one arm sprawled over the Prince’s belly.  He could feel each and every rise of his bare chest against his arm.

With his free hand, he reached towards the freckled face in front of him, and traced those freckles with the back of his index finger.  He did so gently, as it would have been a sin to rouse the boy from his slumber. 

He shifted to lie on his side, slowly, so he could wrap his arm around him.  He pressed a kiss on his forehead which lingered for a long moment, albeit never enough, before he pulled the blonde’s head even closer to fit it on the crook of his neck.

He wished for more moments like this, when it was just him and Prompto, and nothing else in the world mattered.

 

 

It was his wedding day.  His eyes scanned the throne room filled with people, looking for a blonde chocobo-butt hairstyle, a pair of eyes of the shade midnight blue, and a familiar freckled face. 

He tried.

He failed. 

 

 

 _He won’t be coming back,_ Ignis told him. 

It was the very moment when the world crumbled under his feet.

 

 

It was the moment he saw Prompto after what felt like an eternity, the moment he was very much waiting for.

 _Come back to me,_ he wished he had told him, when he was finally there in front of him.

But he didn’t.  He left him, in that room, not knowing that he would no longer be there when he comes back.

He was full of regrets.

 

 

He woke up to the sun rays peeking through the ceiling-high windows of Prompto’s room.  He drew back the curtains obscuring it from view, letting the sunshine flood in.  He wished for Prompto to see such a sight, even if he was not there, in his own room, the room among the few with the best view of Insomnia especially given to him.  He wanted Prompto to see it, so he grabbed the camera he had left behind, switched it on, and captured the view. 

He wanted to show that to him personally. 

But he knew he couldn’t. 

His birthday was approaching.  He wanted to come up to his doorstep and greet him _Happy Birthday,_ kiss him and pull him into a tight embrace. 

But he knew he couldn’t. 

 

 

He drove through the Crown City Checkpoint and passed by another black car about to enter the city.  He could tell it was Ignis, probably with Iris and Talcott as he had mentioned yesterday, but neither of them stopped beside the road to say a word or two.

He saw the lights of the Hammerhead from afar—he knew he was about to meet Prompto there.  He felt a mixture of excitement, of dread, of anxiety.  He briefly glanced at the black box with a yellow silk ribbon on top sitting on the passenger seat.  His stomach flipped even more.

He parked on the space between the mart and the gas pumps.  He turned off the engine and heard the loud music coming from inside the diner.  He saw Prompto through the windows, from where he was standing. 

Once again, he saw the sun.

He wanted to give him the present personally.  He wanted to come up and greet him _._

Yet he couldn’t. 

He saw the black motorcycle parked beside the mart, the one that Prompto used according to reports.  He placed the black box on top of it.

He started the engine of the Regalia and drove away.

He was still full of regrets.

 

 

\----------

 

 _These are not merely your memories.  These are the things that you are about to lose_.

 

\----------

 

“You are the Chosen, the True King,” he hears Bahamut’s voice again, which brings him back to reality, in the nothingness where he’s floating, endless streams of light surrounding him.  “But none of that shall matter if you have not _chosen_ to be the _King.”_

Of course, Noctis understands well what Bahamut is making him do.  Bahamut has shown him what’s at stake here, after all—it’s Prompto, and of course, for Noctis, he’s his _everything_.

“Now, bring forth your decision, Noctis Lucis Caelum, the True King.”

If he doesn’t choose to fulfill his duties as the True King, then what will become of him, of this world?  Will he be similar to the Accursed, whose rightfulness for the powers of the Crystal was rejected?  Will he be bound to leave an agonizing immortality as his punishment?  And will the world be trapped in eternal darkness?

We’re not talking of real _options_ here, are we?

But he needs to voice out his decision—he has to—for everything he had already sacrificed.

 

\----------

 

He wakes up, though he’s not certain when did he fall asleep.  He finds himself on a soft bed, and when he rubs the sleep from his eyes he realizes he's in his own room—not in the royal couple’s chambers nor in Prompto’s room.  Though the curtains are just partially drawn back, he can tell that it’s almost noon already, but still, to be sure he reaches for his phone that he sees lying on the bedside table.  He checks the date and time and concludes that he was out for at least twenty hours. 

There’s one more thing that he notices—the Ring of the Lucii on his finger—a grim reminder that his memories of talking to Bahamut inside the Crystal were real.   

He asks himself the question: Does that mean he’s already completed his ascension?

… Has he done the right thing, after all?

He clenches his fists tightly, until they’re trembling, and his knuckles turning white.  He bites his lower lip, shuts his eyes as tightly as possible, but none of that prevents tears from falling, and sobs from echoing throughout the room. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, repeatedly, in between his wails that he does not bother to hold back anymore.  “I’m sorry.”

 

\----------

 

It is almost late in the afternoon, and Prompto is driving back from doing a favor for Cindy by buying certain auto parts in Lestallum.  He passes by the Norduscaen Blockade, once an Imperial checkpoint.  He recalls what Dave said something about a number of hunters going missing around the area, particularly past the Prairie Outpost.  He met the leader of the hunters a few days ago who told them that with longer nights, stronger daemons spawn unpredictably, and dealing with them is getting too much to handle.  Dave mentioned that in just two nights, they had lost several hunters.

Instead of going down the road back to Hammerhead, he makes a detour by turning left to the rough road, passing by the Prairie Outpost.  As he continues down the dusty road, he sees the massive walls of the Formouth Garrison.  He pulls over, about a few meters away from the road leading up to the entrance of the former Imperial base.

He notices that unlike the two other biggest Imperial bases—Fort Vaullerey and Aracheole Stronghold—this one’s totally unguarded by the Lucian forces, and its gates are completely retracted. 

He honestly does not know if going in another Imperial base would help him find the answers that he seeks.  He had tried, really, so many times to push the idea to the farthest corner of his mind.  But whenever he thinks he had succeeded, it just resurfaces. 

Or maybe he is just being obstinate in finding answers to his questions.

“Hey,” he calls out to the Glaive who pulls over nearby, also with a motorcycle.  “You really don’t have to follow me at this point, I’m just checking the area for some dog tags.”

The Glaive shrugs, clearly showing Prompto his defiance.

“Fine, have it your way.”  Prompto rolls his eyes, as he shuts off the engine of his motorbike and proceeds on foot to the base.  He makes it a point to be equipped with all the ammunition he can carry.   

He goes inside the base through the main gates.  There’s nothing unusual inside, though—it is still devoid of presence of humans and MTs alike, just like how they left it behind a few months ago after they’ve driven the Imperial forces out.  He walks further inside, and when he’s already too far from the gates, he hears a sound, of metal sliding against concrete.  Realizing that the sound comes from behind him, he turns around, and to his terror, he sees the gates closing.   

“What the hell!?” he shrieks as he sprints as fast as he can to go through the closing gates the last minute.  Through the opening which is getting narrower by second, he sees the Glaive on the other side who is gesturing for Prompto to hurry up.  Seeing that Prompto most probably will not make it, the Glaive is about to go inside instead to accompany him.  However, both of them are surprised as a figure appeared behind the Glaive and knocked him down.

After the gates shut, Prompto hears nothing from the other side.

“Hey!” he shouts to the Glaive, hoping that he is being heard on the other side.  “Are you alright there?”  There is no response, nonetheless.  As much as he want to know what happened, there’s very little he can do now that he’s stuck inside the enormous walls of the base.

He needs to get out of here.  Quick.

There is nothing that looks like a switch anywhere near the gates, so he concludes that the control panel must be located somewhere else.  He goes to the nearest small control room, but sees no lights on the consoles inside—they had busted the generator, after all.  He presses some buttons randomly just to make sure, and the power outage is proven.

He doesn’t know where to go—he cannot remember the layout of this place ever since they had raided it.  He thinks of going to the highest tower he would find inside the base, and maybe he can start with that.

He heads to the nearest guard tower he sees.  But before he climbs the tower, his attention is caught by the opened hangar in which he sees a light above a door inside it.  He thinks it is odd, though, when there should be no power at all. 

He approaches the hangar, cautiously, with his loaded guns on each of his hand.  He approaches the lit door and notices that on the right side of the door there is a pad lit with green light.  He realizes that it resembles the pad on the console of the Magitek Armor he had managed to activate in the Aracheole Stronghold a few weeks ago.

Of course, he knows that whatever he’s thinking of doing may not be a good idea, but he holds his right hand to the pad.  Instead of a _beep_ he’s expecting, he hears a female voice say:

“MT Unit Number. 05953234. Access granted.”

His face loses its color upon hearing that, with a thunderstruck expression which simply says he does not know how else to react to that.He wants to deny it, but that computer just called him an _MT_.  A _freaking MT_. He’s heart is beating mad, his knees are in the danger of giving out, and it takes most of his courage to keep himself standing and steady.  Sadly, the current situation he’s in does not permit for any contemplation—he has to save it for later.

The door slides open, revealing a slightly-lit room.  He proceeds inside, still cautiously, hands even more trembling.  

He is frightened to see three MTs standing on one side of the room, however, they remain stationary.  He’s seen such posture before: the MTs are sleeping. 

He looks around the room and sees a whole array of consoles and monitors.  He knows that any movement he makes may potentially wake the sleeping MTs up, but hell, he needs to get those gates open.

He walks past the consoles as he investigates them one by one, until he finally sees a small monitor displaying the view from an altitude of the main gates from the outside which are currently closed.  He could see a figure lying on the ground by the foot of the gates, and he guesses that it is the Glaive.  Following his hunch he presses a large rectangular button on the console just below the monitor and witnesses the gates slide open.

Without further ado, he concludes that his business is done and heads to the door.

Then _fuck,_ an alarm sounds when he _absolutely needs_ it the most.  He looks at the MTs and sees their eyes light up bright red, before they see him and charge toward him.  Prompto takes a few steps back and takes the first shot, one which knocks the weapon off of one of them.  The next successive shots eliminate the other one, causing it to disperse as black fumes to the air.  One of them manages to gain distance to him and slices down his sword to Prompto, but he successfully evades the attack by dive rolling on his side.  He immediately regains focus and knocks the MT down, and also deals with the last one.

Thinking he has dealt with all of them, he turns to the door, only to see someone standing by it.  It is a tall man, and by the aid of the dim lights he can see his fedora and amber eyes.

Prompto raises his gun towards him, his finger ready to pull the trigger.

“Oh look what we have here,” Ardyn says.  “It’s the lone wolf that is miles away from the pack he used to belong to. 

“…Or perhaps, he _thought_ he belonged to.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. OH FUCK YOU ARDYN  
> 2\. Don’t worry, Luna had a heavy breakfast that morning before leaving Insomnia. Or maybe she had a bento with her, who cares anyway  
> 3\. No beta, all mistakes are mine. I’m sorry for the errors you saw :(
> 
> Well that was a long ass chapter! I'm proud that you survived reading it, hahaha ^^
> 
> I am now resuming the weekly updates, yay (hopefully)
> 
> There's still a few more chapters to go, so if you want clarification on something, feel free to tell me! I'll see what I can do about it^^
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	10. The die is cast

Aside from the light coming from the enormous chandeliers hanging on the high cathedral ceiling, the whole throne room is bathed with the midday sunlight, making the golden ornaments of the throne shine in the distance.

The doors of the throne room open to announce the arrival of the King.  He King is wearing the black Kingly Raiment with gold and black armor plating on his left shoulder and left knee, the horn-like crown on the right side of his head, and the Ring of the Lucii on his right hand.

He walks on the aisle formed in between the two files of Glaives—whose powers they now owe to the new King—and Crownsguards facing each other, holding their swords in such a way of salute.  As soon as he walks past the aisle, the soldiers synchronously turn to face the throne in one or two swift movements.

He sees his Shield, his Advisor and the Marshal lined up on the foot of the steps of the throne, along with the senior members of the Crownsguard, including Clarus and Monica.  High above, on the landing of the steps of the throne stand the Queen and the former king.  He walks past them as he ascends the steps to the throne.

He places a hand on an armrest as he approaches the throne, feeling the cold black granite on his fingertips.  He withdraws his gaze from it and faces the crowd whose all eyes are looking up to him. 

With all dignity, he takes the seat, laying both his arms on the armrests, his fingers folding on the edges.  As he does, the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard kneel down all at once, and so does his retinue. 

He leans back to the red velvet cushion comfortably, and closes his eyes for a brief moment. 

He might have come a long way, but this is just the beginning, he thinks.

 

\----------

 

“Oh look what we have here.  It’s the lone wolf that is miles away from the pack he used to belong to. 

“…Or perhaps, he _thought_ he belonged to.”

Prompto, with both his trembling hands, aims his gun to the tall man in front of him.  To think that he’s one of the culprits behind the war between the Empire and Lucis, and the very embodiment of the Starscourge that’s threatening the existence of all of Eos and its inhabitants—it makes his blood boil that his finger is inching to pull the trigger at any minute now.

“What do you want,” Prompto asks in a rather deep voice, obviously trying to keep it steady, but his gaze shows no signs of wavering.  He knows that being alone as he is now may be the determinant of the outcome of this encounter, that he may not make it out of this Imperial base alive, and that he has the slightest possibility of killing Ardyn, but _Astrals_ —he will not die without putting up a _goddamn_ fight.

“Ah ah ah,” Ardyn replies in a sly melody.  “Perhaps it is _you_ who want something.”

Ardyn takes a couple of slow steps toward a nearby console, looking at the few activated monitors, and Prompto does not fail to make the muzzle of his gun follow the movement.  “You seek for the truth, yet you’re looking at the wrong place.”

“What you’re looking for is very far from here,” Ardyn continues as he turns to Prompto, making the boy hold his firearm even firmer.  “As a matter of fact, you shall cross the oceans to get there.

“I suppose you already know, but you just keep telling yourself that you don’t.  Humans are indeed full of contradictions—but that shall not apply to you, eh?”

“I _am_ human,” Prompto asserts, steadfastly.  He doesn’t know why, but right after he’s said it, his conviction fades away in an instant.

Ardyn chuckles, amused, his deep husky voice resonating in the small room. “Oh, are you?”  He asks as he takes a step towards Prompto.  “Oh wait—you are not sure.  That’s why you keep searching for _answers._ ”

“Shut up and stay back!” Prompto yells as he further raises the gun directly to Ardyn’s eyes.

However, the Chancellor does not heed the warning, and instead takes a couple more steps to the boy.  The action narrows Prompto’s choices, that eventually he decides to aim down the sights and pull the trigger.  Shot at point-blank, the bullet pierces through Ardyn’s skull, in the spot just above his nose bridge.  The impact knocks Ardyn back before he falls to the floor, flat on his back, and soon a pool of blood forms behind his head.

Prompto lowers his gun, as if his arms are deprived of strength, and takes a couple of heavy breaths.

He did it, didn’t he? 

He killed the Chancellor. 

He _fucking_ did it, he thinks. 

He doesn’t know if he should rejoice as early as now, but he doesn’t really have to decide on what to feel right now, because to his utter horror he sees the _dead_ man’s arms move, propping himself on an elbow before he sits and eventually stands.  Once again, Prompto raises his weapon, in complete disbelief on what is happening right before his eyes. 

And there it goes—the deep, husky laughter, so menacing it brings chills down to Prompto’s spine. 

As Ardyn completely returns to his posture, he raises his hand to Prompto’s direction, and red glimmers of light surround the man along with small shards of crystal.  It takes Prompto aback as the spectacle reminds him of the lights emitted whenever Noctis summons a weapon from the Armiger, except that Ardyn’s are red in color, the kind of red which screams nothing but wickedness.

It does not take long before the very same fumes of light also envelop Prompto.  He doesn’t know what to do, ‘cause he knows that shooting the man a second time around would be _futile_ , although he keeps his firearm raised and aimed toward the Chancellor.   

Prompto may not notice it, but Ardyn squints as he catches glimpse of the sparkling piece of a white crystal pendant, with a tint of bluish purple, that is chained around the boy’s neck.  He smirks when he realizes what it is, and at the same time withdraws his hand.  The red lights completely disappear before he abruptly turns away.

“With no doubt, I shall see you again,” Ardyn says as he puts on his fedora that he has picked up from the floor and walks through the door.

The moment that the Chancellor vanishes from his sight, Prompto nearly collapses to the floor if he’s not able to brace both his hands on his weakened knees.  He cannot believe that he’s survived such encounter, that for all he knows he could have been dead by now should Ardyn prefer not to let him off the hook.  Although the reason of the Chancellor for not killing him is a mystery, he doesn’t take his time thinking about it when he realizes that he still needs to get out of the facility.

Prompto runs through the door, still remaining alert, tracing back the path he’s taken.  He simultaneously reloads his handgun, preparing for enemies he might face along the way.  He finally reaches the corner where sees the gates which are now open, just like he hoped, and so far he’s encountered no hostilities.  From afar he sees the Glaive still lying on the ground right outside the gates, and kneels next to him when he gets out of the gates after a few seconds.

He calls out to the unconscious Glaive as he nudges his shoulder repeatedly, with an increasing force.  Prompto looks out for wounds on his head and for signs of blood around them but sees none.  He is about to take out a bottle of potion when the Glaive scrunches his eyebrows and struggles to move.

After a few moments the Glaive completely wakes up and shifts to a sitting position, and Prompto is about to ask him how he’s feeling when suddenly, the bright afternoon sky turns into a pale shade of purple, as if the sun is beginning to set.  But Prompto notices that the sun, obscured by purple clouds, is still too far from the horizon.  Prompto checks his phone (which still has no phone signal) for the time and sees that it is just a bit past 3 p.m., which justifies the position of the sun in the sky.  What they’re seeing just doesn’t make any _sense,_ but they’re pretty sure that the night will be falling anytime soon.

“Come on, we have to go,” Prompto says as he hastily pulls the Glaive to get him on his feet.  They need to go back to the Hammerhead before the sky gets any darker.

 

\----------

 

Ignis knows he is not supposed to be here.

The King has just completed the ceremonies pertaining to his ascension to the throne, the ascension which was formally finished by his symbolic first sitting on the throne yesterday.  To everyone’s shock, the night had fallen yesterday a little bit past three in the afternoon, the earliest time it had so far.  Beyond what was anticipated, the sun appeared in the sky late in the morning today, around eight in the morning, and disappeared from the sky in a much earlier time at around 2:30 p.m.  It is indubitable that it is only a matter of time before the darkness completely cloaks all of Eos. 

The prophecy is already unfolding.

The Royal Council had a meeting this morning to devise strategies now that the King had already earned the blessings of the Astrals and the power of the Crystal.  Postponing their attack to the Empire falls last on their short list of options, considering now that the darkness is already taking over.  They cannot afford to deal with two major enemies, they need to eliminate one first.  Both are risky, but taking down the Empire is relatively the easiest, especially now that they had finally received intel from the spies in Niflheim, including the location of the facility where the Magitek Troopers are being _produced_ along with their ships, and a strategic route through which Lucian airships may pass through unnoticed.  The Council resolved to send the Glaives first to the Magitek research facility to cripple their forces, before the rest of the Lucian forces—including the King himself—takes down the seat of Imperial power, Gralea.  Meanwhile, the King, using the powers of the Crystal, will expand the barrier to cover all of Lucis.

Simply put, they are officially launching the massive attack to the Empire. Dealing with Ardyn may come in later, when the Chancellor finally shows up.

Given the gravity of the situation they are currently facing, Ignis knows he is not supposed to be here, but here he is, in front of the doors to the bar on the ground floor of a hotel a few blocks away from the Citadel.  He pushes the glass door and lets himself in.

Most businesses in Insomnia are still up and running as usual, and this bar’s seemingly one of those who still stands amidst all of the chaos confronting the nation.

He looks around the small bar, whose cozy atmosphere is brought about by the warm orange lighting and smooth jazz music playing in the background.  The place is mostly empty and he immediately sees the reason why he’s in such a place—there, sitting on one of the seats at the bar, holding a glass of what seems like a whiskey.  She’s wearing a semi-casual attire of a black long-sleeved knee-length pencil-cut dress which presents a new sight. 

“I must say,” Aranea begins as he sees Ignis approaching before he takes the seat next to hers, “I’m quite surprised that you showed up.”

“It will be rather disrespectful of me to keep a lady waiting,” Ignis answers, gesturing to the bartender and ordering a cocktail.

“Let me get straight to the point,” Aranea says as she sets down her glass to the beverage coaster.  “I want to have a word with your king.”

“For what purpose, if I may ask,” Ignis takes a sip from his glass of cocktail that has just been served.

“I’d like to tell the King the whole details, but… consider this as me giving you a favor.

“I am going to Niflheim.”

 

\----------

 

_MT Unit Number.  0------4.  Access granted._

That automated voice repeats in his head, although he does not remember the numbers clearly, like a track set to play on loop, except there’s no way to stop it at will even in his sleep.

Prompto draws back the curtain slightly and sees that it’s still dark out.  If he hadn’t heard from the news that the days last only up to six hours from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m, he will easily conclude that it’s still the middle of the night—and his phone verifies it’s already 6:30 a.m.  It’s only been two days since he witnessed the disappearance of the sun at 3 p.m.

Cindy asked him yesterday if anything matters, as she might have noticed that he seemed restless ever since he came back from Lestallum—too restless that it cannot be entirely attributed to the fact that the darkness is beginning to take over all of Eos.

He really regrets not being able to talk to her about it, ‘cause he never wanted to treat her like a stranger.  But telling her something like _Hey, I’m an MT_ , of course, doesn’t sit well with him. 

He lies back on his bed again, closes his eyes, as he tries to get a couple more minutes of sleep—if he had even gotten any throughout the night. 

 

When he wakes up at 8 a.m., it is finally bright outside.  It is already busy at the garage—not because of customers and their cars, but because of the hunters that are setting up reinforced anti-daemon lights around the outpost.  The hunters have been too busy these past two days doing the same in other outposts and small villages, in an effort to ward off daemons that are getting stronger every night.

Prompto has been helping the hunters as it takes his mind off of other things, although just temporarily.  Today, he is about to move on with his task when he hears the _whirring_ sound of what seem like multiple engines, coming from the direction of the former Imperial base next to the Crown City Checkpoint.  The said base can be seen, somehow, from the Garage, so when he turns to look, he sees a black airship hovering above the tall walls of the base, until it slowly lowers to land inside it.

He isn’t sure, but he knows that the airship is definitely nothing like those owned by the Imperial army.  He’s only seen Lucian airships in photos, but he’s betting on it.  Still, he excuses himself from the hunters and Cindy as he hops on his motorbike to head to the base in question.

 

The gates of the former Imperial base are opened and considered unguarded as the Lucian forces inside are busy arranging and loading supplies to the three Lucian ships in the base—they are so busy that none of them takes notice when he walks casually inside.  He confirms his guess that the soldiers are definitely up to something—he didn’t have a personal body guard for two days now. 

“Wazzup,” Prompto hears the familiar voice approaching him from his right.

“What’s this all about, Cap?” Prompto asks Nyx, almost innocently, though he knows by the looks of it that the Lucian army is getting ready to engage the Imperial forces.

“We’re finally putting an end to this war once and for all,” Nyx replies.  “The Glaives are to launch a covert attack to Niflheim tonight.”

 _Niflheim_.  The word hits home. 

“Take me with you,” Prompto says, without too much thinking actually.  But he’s quite certain that he wants to go with them, to that place he had no memories of but kept haunting him throughout his life.  This may be his only chance of finding the answers he seeks.

Nyx is somehow startled of the kind of unusual dead seriousness painted on Prompto’s face, but instead, he pretends that he takes it as Prompto just wanting to help.  “As far as the Crownsguard is concerned, you are MIA.  Be a good boy and stay here.  It is the King’s order—“

“I don’t care about that,” Prompto cuts Nyx mid-sentence.  “I’m going where I want to go.”

“You have no business in Niflheim,” Nyx’s tone suddenly shifts into an authoritative tone, the one he uses when issuing commands to his troops.

“I do,” Prompto says after biting his lower lip, unsure if he should tell Nyx what he’s about to. “I need to know who—or what—exactly I am.”

Hesitantly, he loosens the black leather wristband on his right wrist and moves it so the mark comes into the view of the Captain.  

“What’s that?” Nyx asks as he looks at the barcode.  He has no idea on what it means, but looking at Prompto, he’s sure it isn’t something good.

“I—I think I’m one of _them_ , Nyx.”

“Them?”

“MTs.  I think I’m an MT.”

For a moment Nyx doesn’t answer, his mouth agape.  “Shit,” is all he says when he manages to say something.

“Let me go with you,” Prompto insists.  “If I become a burden to you guys, you can easily dispose of me.”

“You really think I can do that?”  Nyx says in a louder tone—he is thankful that the noise from the engines of the airships are drowning most of their conversation.  He can’t hide the fact that he is genuinely pissed that Prompto even thought of the idea.  “Even if I can, has it occurred to you that King Noctis would kill me first hand if I shoved you right in the face of danger?  You have a barcode in your wrist, saying that you’re one of them.  What else do you need to know?”

“Everything, Nyx.  Everything about me.  You probably wouldn’t understand.”

“I probably wouldn’t, but I knew very well that it is a dumb decision to let you go there because of your fucking _curiosity_.”  Nyx takes a deep breath, trying to take control of his rising temper, before he continues talking Prompto out of his dumb idea.  “We’re at _war_ , Prompto.  Even if you satisfy your curiosity there’s no guarantee that we’ll make it back alive.”

“All the more reason for you to let me go with you—you’ll need every soldier you can get.  Come on, Cap, you’ve seen me fight!?”

“Fighting for yourself is different from fighting for the Crown, Prompto.”

“I die for myself, I die for the Crown, it doesn’t make a difference!  If I die, then it’s actually a good riddance for everyone!”

Nyx swears that he hears a nerve in his brain snapped. 

“Get outta here,” he tells—or rather, _commands_ —Prompto.  

“Cap—" Prompto tries to say but Nyx grabs him by his upper arm, dragging him outside the gates.  Prompto cannot do much against that strength and height.

“I don’t need someone who is determined go to the battlefield under the banner of _hopelessness_ ,” Nyx says as he shoves Prompto and signals a Glaive to close the gates.

 

\----------

 

The darkness comes at 2 p.m.  Prompto does not know what time _tonight_ the ships will take off to Niflheim, but he has not noticed any of the three ships leaving so far since he got back, so he thinks he might just make it.

He packs all the ammunition he could carry in his compact backpack.  Not having enough courage to say his goodbyes to Cid and Cindy, and others who treated him like a family, in person nor through a call, he leaves a note on his bed saying _I’ll be away for a while, but please don’t worry about me.  Thanks for everything._

 

\----------

 

They’ve already flown a couple of miles from the Crown City Checkpoint, and it’s only a matter of time before they fly over the seas west of Lucian continent, when Nyx hears the news.

“Captain,” a Glaive calls through his earpiece. “Mr. Argentum is on board, Sir.”

“I might have misheard you, please repeat,” Nyx replies. 

The Glaive complies and it’s the very same statement he’s heard.  “It appears he managed to sneak as we were preparing to take off,” the Glaive adds.

“That sneaky little bastard,” Nyx cusses as he rubs both his temples with his hand.

 

“You little piece of shit,” the first thing Nyx says the moment he opens the door of the small room where the Glaives are confining Prompto and sees the boy sitting on a chair.  “What have I told you?”

“Sir,” the Glaive in the room interjects, “Do we have a change of plans?”

“Nah, we will continue with the plan; I’ve already told the pilots.  We only have enough fuel as it is and we cannot afford to make any detours.”

Nyx signals the Glaive to leave him and Prompto alone for the meantime.

“Now,” Nyx turns to Prompto after exhaling heavily.  “Starting from now you’ll be following my orders or I’ll cut your trip short, got that?”

“You just said that you have only enough fuel,” Prompto retorts.

“Opening the hatch and pushing you off won’t consume _any_ fuel.”

“Fine.”

“And that means you will be reinstated as a Lucian soldier serving the Crown, you understand?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“I can’t hear you, soldier.”

Prompto stands from his seat and straightens his posture.  “Sir, yes Sir.”

“Good.  I’ll let someone brief you on the details of the plan.”

Nyx is about to head to the door when he hears Prompto say something.

“Hey I uh, um,” Prompto begins, rubbing his nape with a hand.  “I actually thought about it, you know?  About what I told you yesterday.  It’s… actually kinda dumb of me to say those things.”  Nyx turns to face Prompto once more, crossing his arms across his chest, urging the boy to continue.

“We had a deal—Noctis and I.  We had a deal that I will return to his side.  But I won’t be able to do that unless I know who—or what—I actually am.  Hope you understand, Cap.”

“Then what will happen if you find something far from your expectations?” Nyx asks. “What if you find out that you are not what you thought you are, and eventually decides that you are no longer worthy to return to his side, huh?”

Prompto does not answer immediately.  “Then I guess… that’s it.  I’ll finally be able to find closure once and for all, even if it means me running away for good.”

Nyx is about to snap at him but Prompto continues, “But more than that, I still hope that I’ll get to pull my shit together, you know?  I still want to go back, after all.”

It may not be the response that Nyx wants to hear, and he does not know if it is indicative of a good disposition, but he thinks that it will do for now.

 

\----------

 

Noctis takes his seat at the end of the long table, and his retinue takes the nearby seats, opposite to each other.  The Advisor had requested for an emergency meeting with only the King and his Shield.  Noctis does not know what will be the agenda, but he trusts Ignis that it is something which is best to keep only between the three of them.

“Pardon me for the short notice, Your Highness, but rest assured that the matters I shall be bringing up in this meeting are only of utmost importance,”  Ignis says the moment he settles on his seat.

“Don’t worry about that.  Let us proceed,” Noctis says, leaning back on his chair.

“I had just received a word from the Captain,” Ignis continues.  He pauses for a moment, as if thinking how he will say what he’s going to.  “Prompto’s with them right now, aboard a ship heading to Niflheim.”

“What the—!?” Gladio curses, looking at Ignis and Noctis alternately.

Noctis does not say anything, but his expression screams disbelief, followed immediately by fear, and lastly, by _panic._ Unaware, he clenches his fists, so tight until they tremble involuntarily.  He tries to hide his anger, not towards Nyx, nor to Prompto, nor to _anyone—_ perhaps, he is especially resenting himself.  What is the sense of being the Chosen King blessed by the Astrals if he could not even do something to protect Prompto?

Is this the payment he must give the Astrals—the consequences of his choices so far?

“According to him, Prompto had managed to sneak in one of the airships,” Ignis adds, taking notice of the King’s unease, but prefers not to comment on it.  “On a final note, the Captain wishes to let His Highness know that he would do everything in his power to keep Prompto safe.” 

Noctis, if he were to be a good King, would express rejection to the Captain’s volunteerism and command him to prioritize other matters instead.  He does not, though, ‘cause even if it may not be enough—hell, it is far from enough—to put his mind and heart at ease, he has to accept it for the meantime.

“Tell the Captain to continue with the plan of attack,” Noctis tells the Advisor, in the firmest voice he can muster.

“Consider it done, Your Highness.”

“Is there anything else I must know?”

“Indeed, there is.  Somebody had requested to have an audience with His Highness.”  Ignis takes out his phone and gestures to make a call.  “If you would excuse me for a moment, Your Highness.” 

It only takes a couple of seconds for Ignis to make the call and say “You may come in,” as soon as the call goes through after a single ring.  Simultaneous with him setting down his phone is the unceremonious opening of the doors. 

A familiar face and silvery hair come into view, and the sound of stilettos hitting the granite floor echoes in the meeting room as she approaches the table.

“Took you guys long enough,” Aranea says.  The King and the Shield are both new to the sight of her not wearing her usual dragoon outfit—she is wearing a long black coat on top of her red shirt and black pants tucked in her knee-high boots.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” she says as she takes the seat on the other end of the long table, which elicited a look of disapproval from Ignis.  “I heard that your men are about to attack the Empire.”

Noctis, meanwhile, raises a brow, wondering _who_ might have disclosed the confidential information to outsiders, but he does not wish to investigate. 

“What do you need,” he asks, “Soldiers?  Ships?”

“Oh shut it,” Aranea refutes, leaning back on the chair, crossing her legs, and resting both elbows on the arm rests.  “I bet your ships are nothing in comparison with _my_ ships. 

“In fact, I can lend you one.  It travels faster and will surely bring Your Highness to the Imperial Capital in just a couple of hours.”

“That sounds good,” Gladio comments with obvious sarcasm.  “Maybe you and your men could work under the King’s command, too.”

“I’m not joking, big guy.  To man the ship, I will also lend you one of my men.  The name’s Biggs.  I only need one ship and one pilot for myself anyway.”

“What are the other terms of the offer?” Noctis asks, and unlike Gladio, he expresses his intent to consider Aranea’s proposal. 

“I just need an all-access pass around all of Eos.  Almost a week ago your men had shot the tail of one of my ships, you know?  With all your men guarding the entry points to Tenebrae and Niflheim I’m sure I ain’t going anywhere, boy.”

“Ahem,” Ignis interrupts.

“I mean, _Your Highness_.”

Noctis stays silent for a few moments, allowing himself to think.  As far as he remembers, Aranea and her men are a group of sellswords—for all he knows Aranea may be working for the Empire again.  But she had proven herself unconditionally helpful in several occasions, coming to their aid during the times they had to deal with strong daemons. 

“Your Highness,” Ignis breaks the silence when he sees that Noctis is actually considering the suggestion of Aranea.  “I understand that her interest conveniently aligns with ours at the moment but it may be good to reconsider the amount of trust that the Crown shall be giving to her.”

“She’s defected against the Empire long before the fight against the Leviathan, if I remember correctly,” Gladio tells Ignis before turning to the King.  “I suggest you let her pass a border or two.”

“She was a mercenary once hired by the Empire,” Ignis argues.

“What is your business in Niflheim?”  Noctis asks Aranea instead of giving the much awaited acceptance and rejection to the offer.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Aranea replies.  “The Immortalis is about to get awaken.  I’ll be there to destroy it.”

The _Immortalis._ Unfortunately, neither the King nor his retinue heard of such term.

“Haven’t heard of the Immortalis, huh,” Aranea remarks when she notices that the three has gone silent.  “Guess your intel from your spies is kinda _off_.”

“We’ll appreciate if you shed light on the matter,” Ignis asks, and he receives a sneer from Aranea in return.

“As we speak, the Empire is about to awaken the _Immortalis—_ their ultimate weapon powered by their Magitek technology to reduce the Crown City into nothing but a pile of rubble.  It is currently housed at a Magitek research facility.”

“What are your motives?” Noctis asks further.  “Why would you do such a thing for the Crown?”

“Don’t get me wrong—I am not doing this for the Crown or for any flag.  As for my real motives, I’d rather keep it a secret for now.”

“Such secrecy is rather unworthy of His Highness’ trust,” Ignis remarks.

“I’ll have that ship and you’ll get to fly over Lucis and the Tenebraean borders unrestricted,” Noctis tells Aranea, to his retinue’s surprise.  “Let Nyx and Cor know of this agreement, as well as the matter about the Immortalis,” he tells the Shield and the Advisor. 

“Roger that,” Gladio replies.

“Certainly, Your Highness,” Ignis replies as well, glancing at Aranea’s direction and sees that satisfied look on her face.

Noctis tells his retinue that he would like to have a word with Aranea in private, so Ignis and Gladio leave the meeting room shortly.

“Something you cannot tell with your friends around?”  Aranea asks right after the doors close.

Noctis takes a deep breath before responding.  “I’m not sure if I should be asking this to you, but Prompto…”

“What about the blondie?”

“He’s… I received a report that he’s heading to Niflheim right now, together with the Glaives we sent there.  If you happen to see him, please make sure he’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, sure.  Will bring back loverboy for you, Your Highness.  If that is all, I’ll be taking my leave then.” 

“Aranea,” Noctis calls out to Aranea when she stands and is about to head to the door.

“Any more favors to ask?”

“No, just… Thank you.”

 

\----------

 

The moment Luna opens her eyes, she finds herself at the center of the empty throne room, facing the throne illuminated by the lights from the two tall windows beside it.

She pushes open the tall doors of the throne room and sees the lobby of the Citadel, instead of the hallway leading to the elevators.  That’s when she confirms that this is _that_ kind of dream. 

Suddenly, Gentiana appears from behind her, with a presence like a gentle breeze.  The Messenger walks toward the open doors leading to the front steps of the Citadel, expecting Luna to follow.  Luna does, and as she steps outside and lets her vision adjust to the brightness, she sees the towering crystal figures of the four Astrals—the Fulgurian, the Archean, the Leviathan and the Draconian—surrounding the Citadel.  The Glacian, transforming from the Messenger’s appearance, soon flies to join them.

Luna walks toward them, and stops at the center of the Citadel’s empty front yard.  She closes her palms together in front of her chest, closes her eyes and slowly bows, with all gracefulness and humility.  After a few moments she opens her eyes and lifts up her head.

“The King of the Kings had been granted the power to banish the darkness,” Bahamut speaks.  “A power greater than even that of the Six, purifying all by the Light of the Crystal and the glaives of rulers past.

“Now, he must go forth to the Keep of the Empire where the Usurper awaits, and the True King’s paramour—his heart’s desire—shall bear witness to the battle that will end all battles.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta all mistakes are mine. I'm sorry for the errors TT^TT
> 
> Aaaand shit's about to hit the fan! Let's brace ourselves for the next chapter!
> 
> Thanks for reading ^^


	11. Stranger than fiction

“Landing in T-minus 3 minutes.  All units prepare for drop off,” the Kingsglaive on the radio says. 

The soldiers are all sitting in the rear cabin, weapons on hand, waiting for the hatch to open once the aircraft touches the ground.  Prompto is among them, with a submachine gun on hand, holstered handguns, and ammunition in his belt and side pockets.  Due to the Captain’s persistence he is now wearing a Kingsglaive uniform (he doesn’t know why they have a spare on board, but, whatever) customized for this mission with warm inners, silver-white armor platings and wool leather hood, similar with all the Glaives.  As a final touch, he is also wearing his bonnet.  He doesn’t get an earpiece, though. 

As soon as they feel the airship land, the hatch opens, and all them sixteen run outside, taking position and keeping an eye out for hostilities despite the darkness of the longer night.  The subzero temperature welcomes them harshly, the unforgiving chill immediately seeps through the fabric of their uniforms. 

In a matter of seconds the hatch closes and the airship takes off and disappears in the sky.  If the plan goes as intended, the airships will be refueling in Tenebrae (though it is understood that they could only be getting a small amount there to add to what is left in the tanks), be on standby and won’t be back until the exfil.  According to the plan, the other two airships will land nearby, whose units will attack the Magitek production facility from other directions.

The Captain, through their earpieces, instructs them to proceed, to go through the not-so-dense forest.  The snow is almost knee-high, though, making it impossible for them to do it at a fast pace.  It doesn’t take long before their ragged breaths form smokes in the air, and Prompto can hear teeth chattering, including his own.  It is definitely the climate that none of them had gotten used to.

The sky has lightened up, though the sun is hidden by the winter—it is already nine in the morning, Insomnia time—as they reach the tree line where they are greeted by the view of a low, large open space.  A few more meters and they reach the steep cliff overlooking a wide expanse laid with concrete where a few Magitek Armors are seen resting.  There are steel and concrete structures all over, surrounded by iron fences.  Aside from the guard towers where some Magitek soldiers are stationed, and the huge mass of concrete in the mountainside framing the steel gates to the facillity, there are no other tall structures present—true to the intel, most of the facility is buried underground.

At the other side of the facility is yet another cliff leading to an obscured open space.  If the report which said that the facility encompasses a vast area of the mountain side were also true, they are expecting to find more facilities down that cliff.

A couple of Glaives in the team lie on their stomach by the edge of the cliff and begin setting up their sniper rifles, while another pair of Glaives position next to them and use their binoculars to further scout the area.  The Captain kneels beside them, murmuring instructions to the other team that is somewhere nearby.  The rest of the team are watching out for hostilities around them, which Prompto follows suit. 

Upon signal, the snipers take down the MTs at the guard towers simultaneously, and blue lights flash all over when the other team of Glaives warp to other enemy forces to take them down in an instant.  The Magitek Armors are still immobile, making them conclude that there are no pilots inside. 

It is easy— _too_ easy.  Nyx knows that something may not be right, but they have to proceed.  He instructs his team to rendezvous with the team in the ground.

By the time they reach the other team, the latter has already set up the explosives in the steel gates. 

The Captain murmurs another set of instructions through his earpiece to the other team that is assigned to commence the attack at the other entrance of the facility.  Upon his signal, the Glaives detonate the explosives, busting the gates open, and at the same time they hear a resounding boom from the other side of the mountain.  Without waiting for the dust to clear up, they enter the gates, hearing the annoying loud sound of the alarm inside.

 

\----------

 

They reach the third level below the surface after they have eliminated all MTs along the way.  There is no telling on the exact number, but Prompto is betting that they have killed at least two hundred, and he had very little contribution in that number.  He doesn’t know why, but since that day in the Formouth Garrison he finds himself unable to look at MTs as the same _bunch of burning wires_ they were. 

What if he is really one of them—does that mean they also _feel_ like he does?

Does that mean they were _human,_ too?

 

Some Glaives got injuries—the non-fatal kind which elixirs can remedy—but so far no casualties on their part are noted.  The other team they are yet to meet seems to be doing fine as well.  

They are tired, some are wounded, but Nyx thinks everything has been easy so far.  He’s not looking for a challenge, though, but something in the back of his mind tells him that there should be more than _this._

“Found what you’re looking for yet?” Nyx asks Prompto when they bump shoulders as the team walks through a corridor. 

Prompto knows that behind the hint of mockery, it is Nyx’s way of shaking off tension.  So instead of expressing his annoyance, he answers the question seriously, “Quite difficult to do it if you do not exactly know what you’re looking for.”

Down the corridor, a door automatically opens before them and reveals an enormous high-ceilinged room which is mostly dark, despite the lights coming from the windows of what seems like a control room up above.  The room is so spacious that their chest flashlights cannot even reach any of the three walls.  Nyx signals most of the Glaives behind him to not enter until he says so, leaving Prompto, the Captain himself and eight other Glaives to explore the room.

They walk a bit further, weapons ready, and stop when they sense movement at the far end of the room.  Then they hear it—a low growl vibrating through the concrete floors.

_Grrr—_

They need not flash their lights to the unknown entity as the lights in the room activate voluntarily, finally revealing what they are currently facing.  It is a humongous creature, with a height that’s taking almost half of the ceiling height, with arms twice longer than its torso.  At first they only see white, long fur, with all these crazy contraptions attached to its back.  The creature turns around, making them see its face masked by another set of contraption to which several black hoses are attached. 

Its second roar is louder than the first, making the team jump out of their skins.

Instinctively, they eyed for the door where they came from, and to their luck, the door unceremoniously closes on its own, the same way it opened automatically to let them in.

“Captain, are you all right?” one of the Glaives in the other side of the door asks Nyx through the earpiece.

“We’re fine,” Nyx replies.  “Open the door, quick.  You’ll probably find something in the control room next to this room.”

“Roger.”

“Everyone,” Nyx addresses those in the room.  “We’re taking this monster down.”

The beast stands upright, roars again while banging his hands to his chest.  It’s when the team sees that different from its upper body of flesh and fur, its two legs are mechanical, similar to those of the Magitek Armors.  They have fought many types of monsters that the Empire was using for warfare, but so far, they haven’t seen anything like it. 

Without warning, the beast charges toward them at a speed.  Prompto fires his submachine gun rapidly at the target, and does not stop until the clip runs out of bullets.  That’s the moment when the team goes out of the way of the raging monster that is violently pounding his hands on the floor.

Seeing an opening to its blind side, three Glaives simultaneously performed a warp strike on the monster’s nape and shoulders.  They are able to do some slices, but immediately retreat to a safe distance when they see they didn’t do much of damage.

Nyx instructs a Glaive to see if she can break the glass windows of the control room before warping and striking his daggers on the beast’s head.  He sees that he cannot also inflict much damage, and at the right timing evades the big hand that’s about to grab him. 

Prompto continues firing at the beast and notices it flinch whenever he’s landed enough shots.  At the same time, the Glaives continue hammering the beast with their blades. 

When they thought they have already brought the beast on its last legs, it does that mad roar again, before it charges toward them at an even faster speed.  By some trick its reflexes become enhanced that it wards off with a swing of a hand the Glaives who are trying to attack it.  A couple of Glaives are thrown to the wall, and their cries of pain say nothing good.

The rampage continues on, that the Glaives—even the Captain—think that there’s no end to the monster’s atrocities.

“Open the _fucking_ doors, now!” Nyx yells at the radio.  They need reinforcements badly. 

More Glaives are thrown to various directions when they were not able to evade the attack of the beast.  Prompto is successful in evading when it charges toward him, but the Glaives behind him are not as lucky.  Still, he continues to fire the shots whenever there’s an opening. 

Nyx is able to land an attack on its nape which makes the beast even madder that it charges right to where Nyx retreats.  The Captain evades, and he should thank his lucky stars that he did, ‘cause if not, he would meet the same fate as the part of the concrete wall which crumbled into pieces, revealing the cliff on the other side, while letting the vicious cold wind in.  The destruction of the wall echoes throughout the room that for a second they think that the whole room is about to cave in on them. 

To his grief, Prompto depletes his last clip for his submachine gun.  He does not consider using his handguns yet, so when he sees the sniper rifle of one of the fallen Glaives a few feet away from him, he grabs it.  Despite the nerves and tension, he tries to steady his hands and aims for the eye in the robotic mask of the beast.

He holds his breath and takes the shot.  The beast flinches, and does _that_ roar again, before charging towards Prompto’s direction.  Prompto avoids getting smashed, but he does not see right away when the beast swings its arm.  “ _Fuck—"_ At the last minute, he is able to shield his body using both arms, but is still hit nonetheless.  He braces himself for the expected impact on the wall, but to his horror, he meets the open space in the broken wall.

“No no no—" he shouts through the free fall as his voice eventually vanishes until nobody in the room can hear him anymore.

“Prompto!”  Nyx yells, witnessing the episode right before his eyes.  There might be a slight chance to be able to chase after Prompto, but he couldn’t leave the rest of his men to face the beast before them.  “Shit!”

He notices that the beast has slowed down in his attacks as it constantly grunts due to the pain in its injured eyes.  Meanwhile, he hears the doors open, and the rest of the team comes in.  _Astrals,_ finally.

“Took you long enough,” Nyx tells them.

Nyx instructs two Glaives to cut through the joints of its legs at once, and when they do, the beast falls down on its knees.  Nyx borrows a Glaive’s broad sword, warps to the air right above the beast’s head, and smashes the broad sword to its nape.  He is not able to take the whole head off, but they see no more signs of the monster moving aside from the involuntary twitching of its fingers. 

He places his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath—as the adrenaline wears off, he feels most of his strength get drained.  _They finally fucking did it,_ he thinks.  He looks around the room filled with carnage and sees two—three—five Glaives who appear to be already dead.  _Fuck,_ it only adds to his frustration that he isn’t even allowed to mourn for yet another wave of fallen comrades.  He instructs those who are still able to tend to the wounded and unconscious, and to use whatever curatives they have left. 

He peeks through the gaping hole in the wall and sees nothing but the thick fog covering the ground below.  The altitude is unbelievable, though, that he guesses that it is at least a hundred foot drop. 

Acknowledging that there’s nothing much he can do right now, he could only hope that Prompto’s fall is broken by the thick ice and that he survives other dangers he will be facing after that.  He is especially angry at himself right now for letting a comrade _fall_ under his watch, ashamed at the same time, since he had promised to the King that he will be keeping Prompto safe.   

“Sir, you have to see this!” the Glaive on the other end of the line exclaims.  “In the control room up here.  Quick!”

He looks up and sees through the windows of the control room the hand of the Glaive waving at him.  He takes the path through the corridors and staircases because it appears that the windows of the control room are _unbreakable_ after all.

He meets the Glaive up in the control room who urges him to look at one of the displays in the console.  It displays nothing but texts, lots of them, which look like a log of their operations.  There are many lines saying about the dispatching of units to various sectors, but he focuses on the last entry to the latest entries to the log.

_Diamond Weapon, deployed._

_Commencing attack on Insomnia._

As if on cue, he hears an incoherent message through his earpiece.  He asks the soldier at the other end of the line to repeat.

“This—outpost—Tenebr—" the soldier says, still incoherent, but that shall do.

“Unit from Tenebrae, what’s the status,” Nyx asks, trying to calm down his nerves.  He foresees that this can only be nothing good.

“—skies, there are too many of them!”

“Too many _what_?”

“Imperial warships!  Our artillery cannot—" Nyx hears a loud sound of explosion before the line is cut off.  He can easily assume that the Imperial fleet is already flying over Tenebrae, heading to Lucis.

“ _Fuck!_ ” he curses as he punches the surface of the console within his reach, a petty but only available means to vent out his fury.

He needs to inform the Crown City of the imminent danger right away.

 

\----------

 

Prompto feels his whole body shivering from the cold that’s covering all of him when he comes to, and finds himself almost buried completely in snow. 

Is he alive?  ‘Cause the last thing he remembers is falling down. 

And thankfully, he also remembers dive rolling mid-air to break his fall (though he isn’t sure if he’s done it right, considering that everything happened in an instant).  But now, his body is going numb all over, and he knows that getting frost-bitten is not very far from happening.   

He tries to wriggle his toes inside his boots, until he can move his legs.  His body is aching all over, he is feeling dizzy, but his determination gets himself up and back on his feet.  When he does, he notices that there is too little strength flowing in both his lower arms which may be broken when the beast had hit him full-force.  He manages, though, to pull an elixir from his pocket and with his remaining strength, he crushes the bottle.  In a matter of seconds, he can move his arms and whole body a lot better. 

He draws out his hand gun and starts walking through the cold air and while the sky is starting to get dark despite the signs of the sun being high up behind the dark clouds, until he sees a block of concrete beside the cliff framing a closed door.  He raises his weapon, keeping his eyes open for enemies, though he is surprised to see that the door is unguarded.  He reaches the door to see that small familiar pad beside it, and hell, he knows what to do to it.  He raises his right hand to flash his wrist on the pad.

As expected, the doors open, revealing a hallway leading further down.  He isn’t sure if it’s a good idea to proceed alone, but he has no other choice, hasn’t he?

He treads down the hallway carefully, smoothly, checking every corner for hostilities.  He finds an MT doing patrols, and stealthily snaps its neck from behind.  He loots its submachine gun and ammunition as he watches it burn, evaporate, and _scream_.

If he were an MT, will he die like that?  Will he burn and evaporate as black fumes to thin air, screaming like some animal in pain?

 

He continues through the seemingly endless labyrinth of corridors, encountering and warding off a number of MTs along the way, salvaging the guns and ammunition he could find, until he finds a rather unusual round door at the end of his path.  He flashes his wrist on the pad in the small console beside the door, as if he’s gotten used to it by now.

The circular door opens, revealing a short cylindrical hallway sloping downwards.  At its end is another circular door which opens automatically the moment he approaches. 

The next _things_ he sees are far beyond his expectations.

It is not the several cylindrical pods which are lined up in rows which paint his face horror, but what is inside of each of the pods.  Those are _humans—_ full-grown adult males in flesh, closing their eyes as if they are asleep while standing upright inside the tubes—yet such fact is certainly not the reason why he breathes heavily.

They all look like _him._

Some of them have shaved head, some have short blond hair, yet all share the very same face he has, and there’s no mistaking it.  But they don’t just share the same face, the same complexion, the same build—they all have barcodes on their right wrist.  

For a good moment he just stands there, staring in disbelief, while at the same time, his mind is racing through a lot of questions and a series of thoughts he likes to deny.  Why do they look like him?  What is this place?

Just who— _what_ the fuck is he?

Amid his internal panicking he hears murmurs in the adjacent room, through the open door atop a steel platform where a set of consoles can be found.  He walks up the platform, toward the door, careful not to make any noise.

Peeking through the door, he sees two men at the far end of the room, facing the other way, behind the large contraption in the middle of the circular room.  More pods housing his _look-alikes_ are attached to the foot of the contraption, and in the middle of it is a huge spinning helix that stretches up to the high ceiling. 

Swiftly and silently, he runs to the contraption to hide behind it while obtaining a view of the other two in the room.  Ardyn is one of them—there’s no mistaking that red-violet hair and fedora.  The other is a white-haired and bearded old man.

“My friend, do you recall the child who was stolen from this facility?” Ardyn says.

“The one those Lucians absconded with?” the other man replies, his face still kept from view.

“Precisely.  I thought you might like to see the fine young man he’s become these twenty odd years later,” he turns to Prompto’s direction, pointing a hand towards him.  Realizing that hiding is already useless, the boy reluctantly steps out of the cover and comes into view.  “The time has come to meet your maker.  Any questions for daddy dearest?”

“…No way,” Prompto mutters, taking a step back, raising his handgun in front of him.

“Father and son,” Ardyn says in a delighted tone.  “Oh, how I love bringing families together!”

The unfamiliar man slightly turns sideways, showing half of his face.

“Now if you would excuse me, I would like to give the two of you a chance for a heartfelt reunion.” Ardyn adds, mocking a bow before exiting through the other door at the opposite end of the room.  

The white-haired old man finally turns toward Prompto, revealing the rest of his face which poses stark contrast with the other half—while the half is that of a pale wrinkled face of an old man, the other is purple, similar to the color of a bruise, with black veins sticking out to the surface of the skin.  In one eye, the whiteness of the sclera is gone, and the iris is yellow, unlike the blueness of the other one.  Prompto does not say anything—he’s taken aback by the strange sight.

“What’s the matter,” the old man asks, taking a few steps towards Prompto, “Have you never seen a man turn before?  If those Lucians hadn’t intervened, you could have turned, too.  Because you were cloned from this genius’ genes, born of my own flesh and blood. 

“You are but one of millions created to serve our great Empire in the magitek infantry.  And now you’ve finally come home to Niflheim, my _son_.”

 _My son._ Prompto thought before that he would be at least glad to hear such words from his real father, but hearing those exact words from this man brings him nothing but hatred and antipathy.

“Shut up!” Prompto yells at the man.  “I’m a Lucian!  I am _not_ one of your experiments!”

“Not anymore.  Now, you’re nothing but a _failure_.”  He takes a few more steps toward Prompto, and in every second that passes, the half of his face gets darker, until Prompto sees in such face the familiar purplish black substance that surrounds the daemons he used to fight. “But you’ve got a chance to redeem yourself. With your help, my ascension to divinity is now all but complete.”

With Prompto not taking any steps back, though he keeps his gun raised, the old man reaches a hand to the boy’s shoulder, staring directly at him with those eyes of differing color, yet each is filled with nothing but pure maleficence.  There’s no way he could be the son of this wicked man. 

He keeps his gun raised and aims directly to the old man’s face, his hands are trembling but a finger is ready to pull the trigger.  

“Soon, neither the Kings of Lucis nor the gods themselves will be able to challenge my reign!”

Prompto shuts his eyes tightly, not bothering to aim through the sights of the gun, and in a split second the gunshot resonates throughout the room, and the old man falls onto his back with a loud _thud_.  He opens his eyes to see that black smoke fills the air, an awfully similar scene to when a daemon is slayed. 

“Oh no, look what you’ve done!”  Prompto hears Ardyn say through the intercom.  “You lose your friends and murder your family.  Now you have no one left!”

“Shut up!” Prompto cries in a hoarse voice, his throat is dry and aching. “Shut up, shut up!”

All of a sudden an alarm sounds, turning all lights in the room red, and the helix on the contraption spins more rapidly.  He hears a female computer-generated voice say:

_Daemonification, complete.  Initiating transfer to Unit XDA-1002, Immortalis._

A part of the ceiling collapses and by reflex Prompto ducks to brace for impact.  Along with the debris of concrete, a huge daemon monster falls and lands on the floor lifeless.  When the dust clears up and he looks up, he sees a familiar person standing on top of the dead daemon.

“You always play hard to get like this?” Aranea says the moment she sees Prompto.

“Aranea?” Prompto mumbles, in complete bewilderment on what brought the dragoon here.

“Save it, Blondie.  On your feet!”

 

\----------

 

He sits by the bonfire at the campsite in a shallow cave he’s found a couple of miles away from the Magitek production facility, watching the orange flames dance to the chilly winds of the snowy night.  He’s waiting for Aranea to arrive, hoping that she will keep her promise to catch up after holding off the daemons that came their way while he made his escape using what can be considered a snowmobile.

He’s got nothing else to do, now that he’s taking refuge on the safety provided by the haven from daemons until the sun shows up—if the sun would still show up the next day.  If he could, he would’ve taken the badly-needed sleep after a long stretch of hours staying awake exploring and fighting.  But his mind wouldn’t let him rest yet.

He wonders if the Glaives are alright, though he’s sure that the fight with the white-furred beast had killed and incapacitated a number of them.  Nevertheless, he would like to believe that the rest are able to get through it.

He also lets his mind wander off to the images of the _clones_ inside the pods. 

Well, he finally found the truth that he’s seeking for all this time, put the puzzle pieces together and made sense of the picture.  He just thinks that he’s such a fool to hope that knowing the truth, no matter how harsh it is, would render him _complete._ He’s such a fool to think that he would be better off by knowing _what_ he is.

He’s an MT.  He’s now sure of it, a hundred percent, and the ever-present barcode on his wrist is testament to the gruesome fact. 

He rolls up his sleeve to see the barcode in question.  It’s there, of course, a distinct black mark in stark contrast with his pale skin.  The mark that he’s learned to live with all his life, the mark that he’s learned to accept as an indispensable part of him.

 _Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a crown citizen to me_.  He clearly remembers Noctis once told him, which chased his fears away to the deepest recesses of his mind. 

He laughs bitterly.  He wonders if Noctis would still say the same thing once he knows that the barcode does not only mean that Prompto is born in Niflheim, that he is an MT—one of the _things_ made to take down the very kingdom he’s sworn to protect.

He picks up a small piece of wood from the bonfire, thinking that burning his wrist may do the trick.  He knows it will hurt, absolutely, but he thinks that removing the mark will at least make him different from those clones in the pods. 

He brings the piece of wood closer to his wrist, takes deep breaths and closes his eyes.  But before the scorch reaches his skin, he throws the wood away.

“ _Dammit!”_ he curses.

His reflection on his actions is interrupted when he senses someone nearby.

“Don’t tell me you thought that would work,” Aranea says, a hand on her hip. “ _Prompto,_ right?”

She sits down next to Prompto, and it’s only when he takes notice of the winter attire Aranea is wearing instead of her dragoon outfit.

“You know,” Aranea says.  “I just met with your friends back at the Citadel.  You got them worried sick, especially the King.  You know that we weren’t in good terms to begin with but he still went out of his way to ask me to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.  He’s the King, after all.”  Of course he knows very well that it isn’t the case, that Noctis had done everything he could so far to protect him.

“Don’t give me that,” Aranea scowls.  “He wants you back, safe, no matter what.”

“I can’t go back,” Prompto replies, shoulders slouched, head down.  “I—I’m not like them.  Not only I was born here in Niflheim, I was made—created in some laboratory. 

“I am a weapon, nothing but one of the hundreds made to serve the Empire.  The entire reason I exist is to make Noct and all of them miserable.  They probably wouldn’t want someone like me around.  I’m not going back.”

“Because you’re doing such a great job of living with yourself now?” Aranea sighs as she suddenly stands up and kicks Prompto in the shoulder, forcing him to lie down on his back.  Seemingly not contented, Aranea sits on Prompto’s stomach to prevent the boy from getting up.

“What do you want, then?” Aranea continues, holding Prompto’s face in between her gloved hands.  “You worry so much about what other people want from you that you don’t even know what you want anymore.

“You don’t want to go back?  Fine.  But let me tell you something—on my way here to Niflheim my ship managed to slip past an entire fleet of the Empire heading to Insomnia.  Judging by the large warships they’re about to drop a thousand of their soldiers and monsters to the Lucian soil.  What do you know?  They’re probably reaching the capital as we speak.”

Prompto’s eyes grew wide in terror by the information.

“No way,” he mutters, almost hoping that Aranea would tell him that it’s only a morbid joke. 

“Now, a word of advice: At least know where you’re gonna be when this war’s over,” Aranea says before standing up and takes her spot to turn in for the day.

Prompto does not bother to stand up, he just turns to his side and props his head with his lower arm.  The rock surface of the camp is hard and cold, but he couldn’t care less. 

After what Aranea’s said about the Empire attacking Lucis, it’s clear that he had no choice but to do something to defend the Crown.  But, would he do that for the homeland where he does not want to return to?  Hell, of course—that’s the place where he grew up, the home of the people he loves.  The kingdom that Noctis would give his life to. 

But then again, the war aside, what does he really want?

He thinks that he would not be able to sleep won’t come any time soon, but the tiredness of his body takes over much quicker than anticipated. 

 

When he wakes up, Aranea’s nowhere to be found.  It’s already morning, nine-thirty, but the sky is still dark.  He waits a little longer, and when the darkness fades past ten o’clock he leaves the camp and takes the snowmobile, nevertheless, he doesn’t know where to go from here.

He is not far from the camp when his peripheral vision catches a white dog sitting by the edge of a forest.  At first, he thinks that it may be some random dog, but when he turns to look, he sees a familiar one.  He makes a U-turn and pulls the brakes by the tree line.

“Hey,” he greets the dog as he approaches her.  Pryna wags her tail but instead of approaching Prompto, she turns and runs the other way as if she is expecting Prompto to follow her, which Prompto does.  After getting through a group of trees, it seems like he lost track of her, but he finds something in the middle of the forest, lying half-buried in snow.  It is an MT which appears to be dead, considering the absence of the glowing red eyes.  As to why it is yet to disperse into black smoke, he doesn’t know.

He stands in front of it, and for a moment he doesn’t move.  He suddenly notices a yellow light glowing on his chest, and when he looks down he sees that the light is coming from underneath his uniform.  He takes out the crystal pendant chained on his neck and confirms that it is the source of the light.

When he senses movement from the MT on the ground, he withdraws his gaze from the pendant, takes out his hand gun and aims it to the MT.  However, the MT does not do anything but to struggle reaching a hand out to Prompto, while the red glow in its eyes are flickering.  As if by means of some sort of magic, the green metal face of the MT in front of him suddenly changes into his own _face._ He holds the gun even more firmly with trembling hands.  The MT—no, his own self—continues reaching out his hand, mouthing a few words, as if begging for help. 

He almost lowers his gun as he lets out a heavy breath, and when he raises it again and restores his aim, droplets of tears made their way down his cheeks.

How could he possibly kill _himself,_ goddammit!

Nonetheless, he takes a deep breath, fixes his aim and pulls the trigger before his courage disappears.  After the echoes of the gunshot fades, he looks at the motionless MT and sees that it has its green metal face back.

He holsters his gun and looks down the ground for a brief moment, but when he looks up he’s no longer in the middle of the forest.  The towering Citadel is in front of him, and the front yard is devoid of any presence, aside from his own.  It’s far from the usual sight, though, because red carpets cover the steps, and Sylleblossom petals are flying everywhere.

He walks slowly towards the steps and takes a seat there on the soft carpet.  It doesn’t take long before he sees Pryna running towards him, holding a piece of paper using her mouth.  She sits right in front of Prompto, enabling Prompto to get the paper—which turns out to be an envelope, sealed by the crest of the House Nox Fleuret.  He knew of the crest, of course—he had received a letter with the same seal when he was still a kid.

He opens the envelope and the familiar scent greets his nose.  He remembers smelling such scent to help him go through the days of making himself better and worthy of being the Prince’s friend.  He almost chuckles now that he remembers it.

Unfolding the paper, he sees written in an elegant script,

_All I ask is that you continue to support Noctis and that you remain ever at his side._

His grip on the sides of the paper tightens, though he is somehow holding back so as not to tear the letter apart.  Tears come running down, and instead of droplets they form rivulets which he cannot stop from flowing, no matter how many times he rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. 

How could he even think of taking away Noctis from this wonderful person?

He could not even have the chance to thank her for being the reason why he mustered the courage to be Noctis’ friend.  He could not even thank her for being one of the reasons why his life had changed for better.

Maybe it is good that he has found that he no longer deserves to be by Noctis’ side.  That way, he could give Noctis the chance to be happy with Luna.  Or maybe, all along, he is trying to find a convenient excuse to run away from Noctis for good. 

But is that what he wanted?

What does _he_ really want?

He sees the pendant on his chest light up again a warm yellow glow.  Holding it on his palm, he stares at it and his sobs go still for a moment.

_All I ask is that you continue to support Noctis and that you remain ever at his side._

He hears Luna’s voice say.  He looks around, searching for signs of her, to no avail.

Is it alright for him to want something?  Is it really all right for him to go against the tide and finally pursue what he wants, once and for all? 

Is it really alright?

When he looks up, he finds himself standing in the middle of the forest where he was earlier, but the dead MT is nowhere to be found. 

 

\----------

 

He goes back to the camp, thinking that he would have the chance of seeing Aranea there.  As it turns out, he’s right, as he sees her straddling a snowmobile parked near the camp, about to leave until she sees Prompto approaching.

“Glad to have you back,” she says as Prompto pulls over.  “I thought you’ve already gone to somewhere on your own.”

“I, uh…” Prompto stutters, thinking of a way to tell Aranea that everything about him is ok already.  At least for now.  “I really thought about everything. 

“I’m sure of what I want now.”

“Good enough,” Aranea answers, the corner of her lips curving upward.

They are both startled by the sound of crumbling rocks at the distance, feeling the ground shaking beneath their feet.  In an attempt to find the source of the noise, they both look around.  It is Prompto who sees in the direction of the production facility a tall, serpent-like creature from afar.  He points it out to Aranea.

“The _Immortalis,”_ Aranea mumbles, seeing the red lights on the head of the serpent which she assumes to be magitek cores.

Prompto recalls that he’s heard the name somewhere.  Right, he remembers the computer-generated voice which said something when his _father_ had fallen.

“I’m going to take it down.  Are you with me, kid?” she asks Prompto.

“You bet I am.”

“Listen,” Aranea tells Prompto before they proceed, her face dead serious more than ever.  “If this monster reaches the Lucian continent, I doubt Lucis could stand a chance.  So we’re gonna end it right here, right now, got it?”

Prompto nods, and they both accelerated down the snow-covered path to facing the Immortalis.

 

\----------

 

They reached the location of the target within a couple of minutes in snowmobile.  At a closer look, it is a giant—colossal—robot with seven magitek cores surrounding the center of its head, like petals in a flower.  Its serpentine form grants it fast mobility in the surface, plus its spinning metal spiked armor gives it the power to effortlessly drill through the permanently frozen ground, crushing through mountains of rocks.

When the Immortalis locks in on them, they only have little time to accelerate their snowmobiles to save themselves from being pulverized into fine pieces.

“How are we supposed to take down that thing?” Prompto shouts to Aranea through the loud crushing noises behind them.  “What’s the plan?”

“Go lure that monster while I think of a way,” Aranea yells back.

“Wh-what!?” Prompto objects, but Aranea has already taken a sharp left turn, leaving Prompto with the Immortalis on his tail.

“ _Fuck!”_

Prompto drives through any path he can find, may be through an open ground or forest, but the Immortalis does not cease to follow, destroying _everything_ on its way.  He just hopes that the fuel or power or whatever keeps the snowmobile running won’t run out anytime soon.

He keeps steering to the left, making him go around in a large circle counter clockwise, so he could go to where Aranea may be.  A few more agonizing moments later Aranea joins his track, using a larger snowmobile with a mounted machine gun at the back.

“Told you I’d think of a way,” Aranea says, matching Prompto’s speed and reducing the distance between the two snowmobiles as much as possible.  “Now, get over here.”

“How am I supposed to do that!?”

“Quit bitching, just jump!”

“What the—" Prompto’s about to protest, but he could not think of other way when the Immortalis is rampaging right behind them.  He lifts himself up and plants both feet on the seat so he’s sitting on his ankles.  “ _Shit,_ this is insane!”

“Shut up and just do it!”

For a brief moment he lets go of the handle bars and stands on his seat, and jumps to the vacant seat behind Aranea.  Lucky him, he lands on both feet, staggers a bit but does not fall as he clutches on Aranea’s shoulders, holding on like his life depends on it.  ‘Cause it does.  The snowmobile he’s left slowed down and tumbled before the Immortalis crushes it.

“What are you waiting for?” Aranea cries.  “Go shoot that bitch!”

“Right, right, I’m on it!” Prompto sits to man the machine gun, his back against Aranea’s. 

He lands the first few shots on the body, which is immediately proven to be futile as the bullets get easily deflected by the spinning motion of its armor, plus the seemingly impenetrable material it’s made of.  He tries aiming for one of the red magitek cores and sees that the robot is flinching after taking several subsequent shots.    

It takes a great deal of time and area covered by the chase when Prompto is able to make all the magitek cores lose their red light, causing the Immortalis to stop on its tracks and fall down the ground.

“Is it over?”  Prompto asks, as Aranea slows down the snowmobile until they come into a halt.

Prompto’s question is answered quickly when the magitek cores lit up bright red again, and in a short time the Immortalis is back standing again. 

“What the _fuck!?”_

“It isn’t called Immortalis for nothing,” Aranea tells him before revving the engine and accelerates once more.

They circle around the robot which seems to be no longer moving around, aside from the spinning blades on his head.  Prompto employs the same strategy, but the bullets no longer do the same damage as they did earlier.

He tries to aim for the magitek core in the center which proves to be more vulnerable now.  After a bunch of shots something explodes, however, he is not able to continue doing the same thing as a force field began to form inside the surrounding magitek cores, making the bullets unable to reach the centermost core.

_Dammit!_

He does not expect to see blue flashing lights slicing on those magitek cores when the Glaives finally arrive at the scene.  Prompto sees Nyx in the distance, together with some Glaives.

“You’re late, Cap!” Prompto yells at Nyx before their snowmobile reaches him, and Aranea pulls over.

“Sorry for that,” Nyx says, and Prompto notices the fatigued state of the Captain, with the scars and burn marks all over his face.  “Got to wrap some things up back there.  Do you have a strategy here?”

“Tell the Glaives to keep striking the outer magitek cores until the Immortalis stops charging the force field in its center.  I’ll take the shot when it does.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

In accordance with the plan, the Glaives and the Captain simultaneously strike the outer magitek cores, interrupting the charging being done by the machine.  With the force field out of the way, Prompto concentrates firing at the largest core, which creates an explosion in the core, rendering the Immortalis temporarily immobile, allowing the Glaives to land more attacks.  They repeat the process several times until the robot falls.  For good.

“Is it finally over?  For real?” Prompto asks Aranea once again as she pulls over.

“I think it is,” Aranea answers, a smile on her lips as they both get off the snow mobile.

“Nice job, kid,” Nyx tells Prompto as he approaches.  “Good to see you alive.”

“Could say the same to you, Cap.”

Little do they know that it's too early to rejoice and declare themselves triumphant. 

Nyx is about to tell the rest of his men to regroup, when suddenly, the darkness takes over the sky.  It’s not what leaves them speechless, though, it’s the multiple Imperial airships that they didn’t see coming, dropping many MTs more than they could count. 

They’re obviously at a disadvantage here.  The Glaives are weary from all the successive fighting, their curatives are almost gone, and their number had already shrunk to the least they can afford in order to keep going.  This is bad.

Still, Nyx prepares to counter the attack of the MTs charging towards them.  He blocks an attack, fends off one, two MTs, as he hears the screams of Glaives who are dying one by one. 

Prompto and Aranea, on the other hand, are relatively doing better, though not entirely on the top of their game.  Prompto’s almost out of ammo, but he takes the guns of the beaten MTs, so he’s doing quite fine making each bullet count.  Aranea hits multiple enemies in one strike, and her agility still persists.

Nyx takes down another swordsman, when he finally feels that he can no longer move his body the way he intends to, his timing getting amiss.  His reflexes are getting slower, and slower, until he fails to see bullets coming his way.  They land on his chest.

After taking down a few MTs around him, Prompto sees the Captain lying on the ground, the white snow stained by red human blood.

Prompto calls out to the Captain, and knowing that he still has a bottle of curative left in his pocket, he rushes to this aid, but fails to reach him as his face gets hit by an Imperial soldier, knocking him to the ground, making him dizzy and about to pass out.  As he tries to get up and recover he gets kicked on his abdomen, and those armored toes doesn’t really get along with his flesh.  Squirming in pain, he still manages to look up and see a pair of amber eyes looking down on him, until a magitek gunman bashes his face with the gunstock.

Then everything goes black.

“Let him go!” Aranea shouts as she charges to Ardyn with her lance at an overwhelming speed, as expected of a _Highwind_ , but the Chancellor successfully blocks the attack with his sword.

“Oh, look who’s here, the _traitor_ to the Empire,” Ardyn remarks.

Aranea jumps back, and is surprised when Ardyn warps in front of her, grabbing her in the neck in a split-second, lifting her off the ground.  Aranea drops her weapon as she scrambles to get away from the Chancellor’s grip.  She does not panic, though, even she’s in danger of asphyxiation.  She holds her breath, lifts both her legs in one swift movement, and kicks the Chancellor on his chest, freeing herself from his grasp.  She immediately picks up her lance and falls back a good distance from Ardyn.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Aranea says, catching her breath.  She only gets a low laugh from Ardyn in response.

She initiates another attack, by running and jumping high up in the air as she aims to strike him down with her lance.  She goes down, fast, but suddenly Ardyn disappears from his position on the ground.  Before her lance touches the snow she feels a bone-crushing impact on her stomach, making her cough and taste iron.  As she gets a glimpse of Ardyn at her side, she realizes that she just got kneed, but before she could do anything the Chancellor bashes her face in with the back of his hand.  It throws her off and sends her tumbling on the ground.  When the momentum of her roll stops, she clutches at her aching abdomen.

Through her blurred and flickering vision, she sees Prompto getting dragged by the shoulder by two MTs to the aircraft.  She looks up to see Ardyn’s smug face looking down at her.

“I will not be killing you for now,” Ardyn says.  “But I need you to do me a favor. 

“Tell the King that at the seat of the Empire, he shall find his most beloved.”

Ardyn turns around and heads to the airship, putting on his fedora.  After a couple of steps, he stops though, and turns back to Aranea.

“Oh, and tell him to hurry, though.  ‘Cause he might not get to see him alive one last time.”

 

\----------

 

Looking at it pessimistically, it is nothing but a losing battle.

It has been hours since the large Imperial fleet has landed on the mountainous barren lands north of Lucis.  Lucian reinforcements keep coming, although they are risking concentrating all their forces in one area—but if they lose this defense, none of that would matter anymore. 

They feel the barrier slowly expanding over the past twenty-four hours, covering most of the area in the Lucis, including Lestallum and Pallareth Pass.  A little bit more and the military outpost in the North where their heavy artillery is will be covered by the barrier’s protection as well.  But until then, they have to hold off the enemy forces on this line.

The large number of MTs and beasts tamed for warfare don’t make the battle easy.  If that is not enough, it’s only past twelve noon but the darkness is about to take over at any minute now.  Many of the Crownsguard have already fallen in line of their duty, and many are injured.  Even the hunters are already helping, and many of them have already met the same fate.  The battle is taking its toll on the forces, even on the Marshal. 

To the surprise of the remaining Lucian forces, the barrier stops expanding.  They wonder why, but it looks like the expansion will not resume any time soon.  They actually don’t have the time to wonder when they see the silhouette of a huge monster emerging from behind one of the hills, whose arrival is announced by the flames on the ground upon its feet.  It reveals its enormousness once it stands on the peak of the hill.  It is something they’ve never seen so far—a bipedal monster covered with stone-like spiked armors, with a red glowing core on its chest.  Closed gigantic clamshell-like appendages are attached on each of its shoulders.  They’ve never seen anything like it. 

The Marshal orders everyone to retreat to the safety of the barrier, which is at least a third of a mile away, while he himself holds off the nearest approaching enemies.  The darkness has fallen upon them, and it’s only a matter of time before daemons spawn in the field beyond the barrier. 

He witnesses the clamshell-like appendages of the monster open slowly, revealing flaming orbs inside which eventually shoot balls of molten magma toward them.  The barrier deflects the trajectories (little they do know, though, that the attack is so powerful that it’s hammering the barrier), but the outpost beyond the barrier is reduced into ashes.  Cor manages to slip through the barrier the last minute, saving himself from the barrage of inferno. 

For a good moment the Lucians could not do anything but watch as Imperial soldiers, armors and beasts attack the barrier.  They also see some Iron and Red Giants begin spawning not too far away, engaging whatever’s within their reach.

It’s total _chaos_ out there.

Their attention is caught by something else—a red Imperial ship approaches them from behind their line of defense.  As to how it is able to withstand being inside the barrier, they don’t know.  They just know that if the ship drops powerful enemies, they’ll be doomed. 

The ship lands quickly, opening its hatch immediately.  The Crownsguards, exhausted as they are, readies to attack when they realize that they should lower their weapons and salute instead.

It’s the King himself who goes out of the ship, followed by his retinue behind him.  He approaches the nearest group of the Crownsguard.

“You’ve done a great job holding off the enemies in the honor of the Kingdom,” Noctis tells the soldiers in front of him.  “I’ll be handling things from here.”

And in a blink of an eye, the King disappears, leaving only blue light and shards of crystals, as he phases to the enemy lines.  He warp-strikes Imperial soldiers and small monsters one after the other, that he manages to swiftly eliminate several enemies in a matter of seconds.  Gladio and Ignis follow him, warding off Imperial units along the way.

Noctis continues doing so until he reaches the location of the huge monster, and that’s when he unleashes the Armiger so that he floats in the air, outright defying gravity. 

Seeing the prowess of their King, it doesn’t take long before the Crownsguards who retreated behind the barrier goes to venture into the enemy lines once again.

 

\----------

 

When Noctis opens his eyes, he realizes that he’s back in his room, lying on his bed.  He gets up hastily and regrets it as his head throbs violently that he winces in pain.

“Your fault for getting up suddenly,” he hears Gladio comment, and when he looks around he sees the Shield sitting on the couch, next to Luna, while Ignis is sitting on a chair nearby.

“How long was I out?” Noctis asks.  He feels a bit sluggish, but feeling alright all in all.  He obviously tries to recall the events before he passed out.

“About six hours since you have defeated the monster,” Ignis answers.  “Thanks to the Queen’s healing, we can say that you’ve recovered most of your strength.”

“I’d say you quite impressed us, despite the passing out and all,” Gladio says.  “After staying awake for hours as the barrier expands, you still managed to take down that monster.”

Ignis silently agrees with Gladio’s comment.  Prior to them going to the edge of the barrier, Noctis had to stop the process of expanding the barrier when he himself, through his visions, had seen the giant monster approaching.  Noctis had emerged from the Crystal room before Ignis and Gladio could interrupt the ritual, and had instantly demanded for them to go to the location of Imperial attack.  Also, it is remarkable how Noctis could now use the full power of the Armiger.  Indeed, the power of the Crystal and the Kings of Lucis is nothing short of astonishing. 

“How are things outside the barrier?” the King inquires further.

“Everything’s relatively well outside the barrier,” the Advisor answers.  Without the strong monsters like what we have encountered, the Imperial forces cannot do so much against the barrier and the Crownsguard.  It’s only a matter of time before the Imperial forces are completely eliminated.”

“Why are you all here?” 

“We figured that you’re about to wake up at any minute now,” Gladio answers.

“Would you prefer to rest for a little bit more or hear the news?” Ignis takes his turn to ask the King.

“Let’s cut to the chase, Ignis,” Noctis sighs, “What do I need to know?”

“The Immortalis had been defeated.  It’s all thanks to the joint effort of the Glaives, Aranea and Prompto.  The Glaives had also been successful in destroying the Magitek production facilities, along with the MTs and Armors housed in them.”

Noctis looks at the expression of the three in the room.  That should be good news, right?  But why do they look dejected?

“Tell me more,” he demands, bracing himself for the anticipated bad news following the good ones.

Noctis could tell that Ignis swallowed heavily before answering.

“The Captain is mortally wounded, and the Kingsglaive had suffered heavy losses.  Aranea has taken the Captain and the remaining Glaives to Tenebrae for their immediate treatment—not to mention that the force in Tenebrae had suffered heavy losses, too, due to Imperial bombardment prior to the attack on Lucis.”

He somehow prepared himself for such news, as it was a gamble to send their forces to the enemy’s backyard to begin with, but it does not make it more bearable when the outcome hits him hard. 

But what about Prompto?  Where is he right now?

“How about Prompto?” Noctis asks, with panic painted on his face.  “How is he?”

“Prompto,” Ignis replies and obviously takes a deep breath before he continues.  “He has been captured by the Imperial forces under the command of Chancellor Izunia and brought to Gralea.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Another long ass chapter here, everybody! Glad you survived it ^^  
> 2\. I don’t know if his bonnet looks good with the Kingsglaive uniform. (No, it does not.)  
> 3\. The explosion on the gates may have risked having an avalanche. But who cares anyway  
> 4\. All these fight scenes killed me orz  
> 5\. OMG our boys are about to meet, finally! Excuse me while I fangirl over my fic *screeches*  
> 6\. No beta all mistakes are mine (will be saying this till the last chapter lol)  
>   
> Guys Guys GUUUYSSS! I can’t believe it! This fic is about to end :”) I know it’s quite a bit early to say this but I am really happy that you guys are seeing through the end of this fic.  
>   
> Next chapter’s the last, sooooooo ^^ (It’s gonna be a long 10,000-word chapter so let’s brace ourselves orz)  
>   
> Thanks for reading!


	12. [End] The darkest hour is just before the dawn

“Prompto…

“He has been captured by the Imperial forces under the command of Chancellor Izunia and brought to Gralea.”

Noctis eyes grew wide.  Everyone in the room is bracing for his reaction.

He stares at Ignis, and thinks that there’s no way that his advisor will be mistaken or unsure of such information, so he does not ask to confirm what he’s heard.

They’ve taken Prompto to Gralea.  They’ve taken away the person he loves the most.

Now’s the time for him to pay for the consequences of his choices, he thinks.

“Prepare the ship,” Noctis tells Ignis as he gets out of the comforter and stands up. “We’ll be leaving for Gralea as soon as possible.”

“The ship has already been prepared, Your Highness,” Ignis replies.  He’s fairly predicted the King’s command hours ago.  “Gladio and I shall be waiting for you at the ship.  A team of Crownsguard shall also keep us company.”

“Good.  You guys keep moving.”

Ignis and Gladio briefly glance at each other before getting out of the room.  Luna, meanwhile, stands from her seat but shows no intention of leaving.

“I beg your pardon, Noctis, but I need to have a moment of your time,” Luna says, taking a few steps closer to Noctis.  “This is something you need to know.”

“I’m listening,” he tells Luna.

“The Astrals have already spoken of the final battle.”  Luna holds Noctis’ gaze in place.  “They said that the King must go forth to the Empire where the Usurper awaits.

“And the True King’s paramour—his heart’s desire—shall bear witness to the battle that will end all battles.”

Noctis is, once again, speechless, waiting for the message to sink in. 

“I am about to go to the final battle,” Noctis says in utter realization of what the message of the Astrals say of what he’s about to face in the Imperial Capital.

Luna nods in response.  She holds both Noctis’ hands in hers before saying, “Worry not, for the Astrals and the Kings of Lucis had granted you their blessings to defeat the Accursed and bring back the light once and for all.”

Noctis withdraws his eyes from Luna’s and looks at their hands for a moment, before looking back at her again.  The fact that he’s about to fight the final battle aside, he is kind of ashamed of himself for not being able to talk to Luna properly about other matters that could also be considered _important._

“Luna—I,” Noctis stutters.  He certainly cannot find the words to tell Luna right now.  “About Prompto—"

Luna hushes Noctis and shakes her head.  “Now’s not the time to talk about it, Noctis.  You must hurry—Prompto is waiting for you.”

As to what Luna really feels, Noctis is still unsure, but he follows Luna’s advice and prepares to leave for Gralea.

Because Prompto is there waiting for him.

 

\----------

 

It will take them at least a couple of hours to reach Gralea, given the speed of Aranea’s ship.  Sure, it is a lot faster than a Lucian aircraft, but not fast enough to bring Noctis to where Prompto is.

“You have to calm down, Noct,” Ignis remarks as he notices the persistent unease of the King.  Noctis, although stays to where he’s sitting in the cabin, cannot stop twiddling his fingers and tapping his soles on the floor.

“How am I supposed to, Ignis?” Noctis replies.  “Prompto, he… No one knows if he’s safe at this very moment.”

That Ardyn bastard.  He has planned all of this, to use Prompto as a lure so he would confront him in the Zegnautus Keep.  Noctis swears he will kill Ardyn and put an end to his madness once and for all, but he isn’t sure if killing him _once_ will be enough if anything happens to Prompto.

“Nobody does know, that’s correct,” Ignis says.  “But we shall believe that he’ll be fine.  As far as I understood, Chancellor Izunia uses Prompto’s presence in the Gralea to draw us in.”

“Which we are more than happy to comply with, Noct,” Gladio remarks.  He’s sitting on a nearby seat.

“The Chancellor has an incentive to keep him alive, and I’m certain about that,” Ignis adds, hoping that it will somehow put Noctis’ heart and mind at ease.  At least for a bit.

“We did take the bait, didn’t we?” Gladio comments.  “We have to focus so we won’t fall into more of his tricks.”

Gladio is right—they are heading right to the face of the enemy.  It may not be the wisest of all moves—devising a last-minute strategy, bringing a few Crowsguard with them who are not in their best condition due to yesterday’s onslaught, and leaving the defenses of Lucis to Cor, Clarus and his father.  But they can have a bit of an advantage, seeing that most of the Imperial forces had been wiped-out in the frustrated massive attack in the north of Lucis.  With the magitek production facilities destroyed by the Glaives, it is least likely that they have more forces left than anticipated. 

But Noctis doesn’t dwell on such facts.  They are now here on the airship, heading to Gralea, and Noctis will definitely bring back the sun.

 

\----------

 

The airship dropped them half a mile past the border of the Imperial Capital, when the first station of Imperial forces is seen.  From that point onwards, they need to make their way to the center of the city by foot.  They are still far from their destination, but they can already see the massive Zegnautus Keep majestically suspended in the air by Magitek technology, with only a thin, tall post housing the elevator keeping it connected to the ground.  

Getting past through the first station is easy.  Noctis stealthily kills the guards up in the towers with spotlights, reducing the possibility of raising the alarm, then the rest of the team takes down the forces on the ground.  They are sure that they have to repeat the same strategy, but as they proceed towards the Keep they see no presence of any station anymore.  They have to deal with small daemons once in a while, but there’s nothing more threatening than that.

It’s like walking in a ghost town, with daemons all over the place.  

Noctis asks Ignis on what happened to the citizens of Gralea, and Ignis answers that he received reports that many had tried to flee to Cartanica or Tenebrae, but only a few groups made it past the Imperial forces.  When asked what happened to the rest of them left in the city, he frankly answers, “They turned into daemons due to the Scourge.”

Noctis and the other Crownsguards hearing the conversation are stunned when realization hits them in the face—all those daemons they’ve killed so far, it is likely that those were once _human._

They’ve continued marching through the alleyways of the City, until they can see that they are now less than half a mile away from the elevator leading up to the Keep.  They see a bridge connecting to a low building which seems directly connected to the elevator.  

In order to proceed, they need to cross a wide highway, with no covers at all.  It is risky, of course, so they make it a point to look around carefully for any signs of hostilities.  But it’s dark, and they cannot recklessly activate all their flashlights at once, otherwise they’ll risk getting detected and triggering an alarm. 

When they think that the path is clear, they take their chance.  Most of them have made it to the other side, ducking behind the posts and pipes, when the remaining crossing soldiers suddenly get rained on by bullets.

“Snipers!” Gladio shouts, ordering everyone to take cover.  The soldiers are able to make it to the side, wounded, although the injury appears to be non-fatal, at least, which can be cured by the curatives they have.

Noctis peeks through his cover and sees the far end of the road illuminate, revealing the squad of MTs and a couple of Magitek Armors.  He guesses that the snipers are on top of the buildings nearby, though he doesn’t know where to begin the search.  But instead of staying there like a sitting duck, he warps to a high point directly above the Imperial forces.  He tells Gladio and the Crownsguard to stay behind covers until he clears the snipers, at least. 

He takes five of them whom he finds on the roof tops, and he thinks that that’s there's no more of them.  He lashes at the Magitek Armor on the ground, signaling for the rest to follow suit.

With the absence of hidden snipers and reinforcements, the fight doesn’t take long and they are able to proceed down the road and get closer to the Keep.  They still proceed with caution; however, there are no more signs of hostilities nearby.  They are now beginning to think that they’ve already got the Imperial forces on their last line of defense.  It is too early for them to rejoice, though, as they see something spawning on the ground near the bridge leading to the Keep, the arrival of the unknown entity announced by the black fumes.

When the smoke clears, they see that it is a bipedal daemon, with a slender build, about nine foot tall, with a long tail, a huge pair of horns and a pair of featherless wings, almost similar to the wings of a wyvern but without the texture of a reptilian scale.

“You Lucians must die!” the daemon says—which takes all of them aback, as they have rarely seen and heard a daemon _speak_ human language (they could only think of the Naga).

“It’s the Emperor,” Ignis tells Noctis.

“What?” Noctis begs for confirmation of what he’s heard.

“I’ve seen his face before the black fog clears out.  I am certain that the face I saw is that of Emperor Aldercapt.”

So, as it turns out, the Emperor is now one of the daemons he had used as an instrument for the glory of the Empire.

The daemon is quick on its movement, using its wings and tail in its attacks.  The spawning Snagas also divide the attention of the Crownsguard.  As if there is not enough trouble to deal with, another giant daemon spawns, similar to an Iron or Red Giant in overall appearance, except that this one’s gray in color and quite bigger.  If Noctis guesses it right, it is the rumored Gargantua as told by the hunters in Lucis.

Noctis phases through and dodges one of the attacks of the Gargantua, only for the attack to land on the bridge leading to the Keep.  Everyone’s attention is caught by the loud creaking and snapping of steel bars, the sound that indicates that the bridge is on the verge of collapsing.  An alarm resounds, and the tall steel gates of the Keep from afar begin closing.

“Hey,” Gladio calls out to Noctis, holding up his buster sword to shield them from the gunfire.  “Hurry up and warp to the gates before they completely close!” 

Noctis looks at Gladio in disbelief.  Is the Shield telling him to leave them behind? 

“You gotta go, now!”

But instead of going along with the suggestion, he just stands there, frozen, undecided amid the dilemma.  He is almost immersed in his thoughts that he does not notice a Snaga approach him on his side, and thankfully Gladio wards the small daemon off flawlessly.

“Listen up,” Gladio continues, not bothering to scold Noctis for spacing out.  “If that bridge collapses and you miss that entrance there’s no telling when you’re gonna find another.  Just go!”

“Listen to Gladio, Noct!” Ignis adds, falling back to them, still holding up his daggers in defensive position.  “We’ll find another way in to the Keep once we’re done with this thing.”  Sensing that Noctis is still not moving, he looks over his shoulder to Noct and says, “Don’t you dare underestimate your Advisor and your Shield, Your Highness.”

Noctis lets out a heavy breath, before he throws his sword to the direction of the closing gates, and warps to slip through the narrowing opening.  After a second, the steel gates shut behind him, which does not even give him a chance to take a glance at his comrades. 

It’s the first time he left his comrades in the middle of the battle.  He knows he has to trust them, and right now, there’s nothing else he can do besides that.  Not to mention he will be facing the rest of the way alone. 

 

He explores the facility, facing a few Snagas at every corner, until he reaches the elevator.  It is deactivated when he fails to open the doors, and it is indicated by the red light above it as well.  He expects to find the console to operate it somewhere nearby.  After getting through a few rooms he finally sees a machine, and judging by the monitors displaying the elevator door with the red light, he assumes that this is the one.  He randomly pushes a few buttons, but the red light on the elevator remains.  Instinctively, he pulls a lever which finally makes the red light turn green. 

He goes back to the elevator, and the doors open automatically.  Once the doors are closed, it ascends to a great height. 

“I’m almost there, Prompto,” he mutters to himself.  “Almost there.”

The elevator stops after a while of ascent, and it seems like it cannot go any further.  His gut feeling tells him that he’s still far from where he wants to be.  Knowing that he needs to find another means to access the upper levels, he goes out to explore the labyrinth of narrow hallways and rooms on the floor where he’s currently on. 

“Welcome, _Your Highness_ ,” he hears Ardyn’s voice through the intercom.  “Welcome to the Zegnautus Keep!”

“Ardyn,” Noctis mumbles.

“I’ve been waiting for you.  Too bad your friends are not with you.”

“Where’s Prompto?” Noctis asks, though he knows that he will not get any definitive answer from the man.

“Oh, right!  You’ve come to see _him_.  Too bad he can’t talk to you right now.”  After a maniacal laughter, Ardyn cuts off the line. 

Noctis proceeds through the network of empty hallways—empty, at least until he sees an MT lying on the ground.  He wonders how come the MT does not dissipate into thin air like the others do when they die.  He approaches, not entirely cautious, before the MT gets up on its feet.  It is when Noctis notices its unusual appearance—its armors are incomplete, revealing its ridiculously thin black limbs.  It stands loosely, looking like it’s about to fall apart at any minute, and it does not calculate its movements—it just hastily strikes its axe whenever it has the chance.  Noctis eliminates the MT quickly, nonetheless.

He continues through the hallways and encounters more of the rogue MTs, and he only gets more of the feeling that this place is even more hideous than expected.

“Can’t you simply taste the air of foreboding?” he hears Ardyn say through the intercom once again.  He dismisses it as another one of his nonsense chatter, until the narrow corridor is filled with green gas coming from the pipes on the walls, which turns out to be noxious, as he chokes upon inhaling a bit of it.

“Aha! Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He runs, covering his nose and controlling his breath turning to every corner he could find.  He’s about to turn to a small stretch of corridor only to see a thick cloud of poison covering it.  He thinks that it will be possible to survive running through it, so he turns the other way instead.

It doesn’t take long before he feels how quick the poison takes effect on him.  He’s feeling dizzy, and he’s sure he’ll pass out if he stays in the poisoned hallways for a couple more minutes. 

He comes across a room and sees three giant mechanical fans at the far end.  He goes to the console next to it, follows his instinct in pressing the unlabeled buttons on it.  To his luck, the fans activate, clearing the room of poisonous air, and he can finally breathe again.

He takes a few moments to breathe, to recover most of the lost strength, before he decides to go back to the fogged hallway he’s seen earlier.  When he goes out to the hallways he sees that much of the gas has dispersed already.  He reaches the hallway in question which leads him to a door that automatically opens as he approaches.  As expected, he’s welcomed by another hallway, but he’s quite relieved to see something which seems like an elevator at the end of it.  Finally, he’s going somewhere. 

The elevator doesn’t take him too far, though—it ascends only a few levels before it stops and its doors open.  Noctis needs another elevator, it seems. 

He finds himself in a large open space in which multiple bridges converge into its center where a dome is placed.  He reaches the dome through one of the bridges and sees it locked.  Through its glass windows he can see that it looks like the throne room of the Keep. 

He proceeds to one of the bridges and enters another labyrinth of corridors.  More rouge MTs keep coming his way, until he reaches a door which leads him to an unusual hallway. 

There are rows of small prison cells along the corridor.  Noctis sees in some cells unconscious MTs lying on the floor.  It doesn’t take him more steps to see what lies at the far end, where a cell faces his direction—a blonde head facing down as his body is strapped in some sort of a contraption holding him upright, both arms splayed perpendicularly in a crucified manner.  It’s Prompto, wearing his black Kingsglaive uniform, and there’s no mistaking it.

He dashes through the corridor, reaching the cell in no time.  To his surprise, though, the cell opens instantly when he intuitively presses the button on the wall beside the cell door.

“Prompto!” he calls out, seeing that Prompto is unconscious.  He tugs the metal braces binding him against the contraption, but they won’t budge, so he looks around the room for any switch of a kind.  On the wall to his left he sees a small console, and he presses some buttons randomly until he hears a clicking sound.  He looks at Prompto and sees the metal braces release him, and Noctis is just in time to catch him on his upper arms before he meets the floor. 

But instead of warm flesh he is greeted with the feel of cold metal on his hands, and in a blink of an eye he sees that it’s not Prompto whom he’s holding, but an unconscious MT.  Startled, he lets go of the MT, letting it drop on the floor. 

He can’t believe he’s fallen in one of Ardyn’s tricks.

“You’re late,” he hears Ardyn say through the intercom.  “He _was_ here not too long ago.  What a pity—you just missed him.”

“Where is he?” Noctis yells.

“I’m afraid you have to find that out for yourself.  You better hurry, though.  Or everything may be too late by the time you find him.”

“Damn you!”

 

After a few long hours he finally finds the central elevator which will probably bring him to the upper levels.  That’s when he hears Ardyn’s diabolical laughter once again.  “Are you getting bored?  Then let me have you meet someone so you can have a trip down the memory lane,” Ardyn says.

Noctis does not give a damn to what Ardyn said when he enters a large high-ceilinged room which looks like one of the hangars of the former Imperial Bases in Lucis.  He expects daemons to spawn at any minute, so when he hears heavy footsteps approaching from his left, he isn’t surprised at all.  The surprise comes after when he sees the face of the entity approaching him.

“Ravus?” Noctis says the moment he recognizes the face.  It’s definitely Ravus—or what’s left of him.  The left side of his body is covered by black goo, and on his head the goo is taking the form of a large horn.  Both his eyes are glowing yellow against a black sclera.    

“Kill me… End it,” Ravus struggles to say, using a voice that does not belong to him.

Noctis hesitates, but draws his weapon nonetheless.  He would like to set his mind that Ravus is no more, that the only way Noctis could help him is to end his suffering.    

The daemon that was once Ravus demonstrates skillful swordsmanship, that the fight drags on for quite a while.  When Noctis gets the chance, however, he does not hesitate to deliver the final blow.

Noctis doesn’t know much about him, but he knows that Ravus only lived to protect his precious sister.  He might be seen as a traitor to many, but Noctis does not entirely blame him for resenting the Crown due to the misfortune that fell upon his family and Kingdom. 

The least he can do right now is to restore peace to this world, so Luna will be protected as well.

“Rest easy,” Noctis says as he watches Ravus disappear into a black smoke.  “Your work is done.” 

 

He looks around, thinking where to go from here.  To his right, he sees an unusually large door, different from the others he had seen so far in the Keep as it does not automatically open as he approaches.  The door doesn’t look like it slides to open and there are no _beeping_ lights on it either. 

“Your heart’s desire is so close now,” he hears Ardyn say.

He pushes them open, feeling the cold steel on his palms.

Suddenly, he finds himself at the throne room of the Citadel, as the doors close behind him.  He doesn’t know how it happened, but it _is_ the throne room.  At the far end is the throne itself, shining—not because of the sunlight coming through the two enormous windows, but because of the dim light from the dark sky outside. 

It’s not what catches his attention, though.  At the ceiling just above the steps leading to the throne is the silhouette of a human figure—hanged by chains wrapped all over the person.

He runs toward the direction of the throne, though he is not sure if he wants to see the figure clearer.  Little by little he sees how the chains are painfully wrapped around the person’s chest, multiple times, as well as around his waist.  His limbs are folded painfully in various directions as the chains bind them randomly.  His head is hideously tilted to rest on his right shoulder. 

And when he does see the figure clearer, he stops running for a moment, only to resume it in an even faster speed.

“…Prompto?” he calls out as he runs, as if he’s forcing the voice to come out to the point it breaks. “Prompto!” he calls out once again.

But the hanged man does not twitch, nor answer to the King.  Is this another one of Ardyn’s tricks, for the second _fucking_ time?

Noctis stops a few feet from where Prompto is being hanged, trying to figure out how to remove the terrible chains around him.  The longer he looks up to Prompto, the more he sees details such as the blood dripping from his head, down to his face obscured by darkness, down to the granite floor.

He’s thinking of warp-striking the chains, but he’s afraid that when he does, he won’t be able to catch Prompto on time.  Then he immediately goes back to the most basic fact he should have already realized—how come they’re in the throne room of the Citadel?

He knows that it’s not possible, of course.  He takes a deep breath, lets himself be surrounded by the blue lights of the Armiger as he unleashes it, and the royal arms spin around him.  In one swift gesture he throws _all_ the weapons in various directions, piercing the four walls and the ceiling.  But instead of coming in contact with granite, or with any material the room is supposed to be made of, all the weapons meet _glass,_ breaking it, and the illusion comes crumbling into fine shards revealing the steel beams and walls of a huge room in the Zegnautus Keep.

As the glass of illusion shatters, the chains binding Prompto disappears, letting the gravity take over.  Noctis phases to tackle Prompto mid-air, changing the direction of the fall, and he makes sure to embrace Prompto tightly, tucking the blonde’s head on his chest as they both roll upon impact on the concrete floor. 

When the momentum fades, Noctis immediately sits up, lifting Prompto’s upper body with an arm to rest him over his thighs. 

“Prom!” he calls out.  This time, he’s sure the Prompto in his arms is the _real_ one, though he’s not exactly relieved seeing his actual state.  “Prom!  Hey, open your eyes!”

Half of his face is in a dark shade of color purple, dark blue veins sticking beneath the surface. It’s a stark contrast to the pale color of the other half, where cuts and bruises are all over, and where rivulets of blood are still flowing from what seems like a deep cut beneath his blonde locks.  Noctis takes out a bottle of elixir and crushes it on Prompto’s hand.  A faint glow of light soon envelops him, making the cuts turn into closed scars, bruises fade, but the color of the half of his face remain unchanged. 

“What a pity,” Noctis hears a husky voice say from somewhere in the room, and this time, it's not through the intercom.  “Even the power of the kings cannot cure the Scourge.”

“What have you done to him, you bastard!” Noctis yells at Ardyn, whom he now sees approaching to his right, walking a rather melodramatic entrance.

“Don’t you know,” Ardyn says.  “If not for that piece of jewel hanging on his neck he would have been far gone by now?”  Noctis looks again at Prompto and notices the faint yellow glow from a pendant on his neck, a piece of a crystal with a small bluish-purple petal inside.

“Quite cruel and unfortunate, don’t you think?  It only prolongs the _suffering_.”  Instead of continuing to walk closer to Noctis, Ardyn walks to his right.  “Oh, I know!  Why don’t you end it yourself?”

 _“Fuck you!”_ Noctis scowls.

Ardyn laughs in amusement.  “Oh, if he’d only turned into a daemon by now, it might have been easy for you, eh?  To kill him like the hundreds of daemons you’ve killed so far.”

“Believe me, it would be as simple as killing the _brother_ of your Queen.  He had risked his life in being a spy to the Empire just so he could serve the Crown in the name of Nox Fleuret.  Yet you easily killed him by your own hands, for the simple reason that he’s turned.”

Noctis does not answer, for the simple reason that he’s dumbfounded due to the new information that Ardyn is feeding him. 

“Oh my, you mean you have no idea?” Ardyn asks as he notices that the King has gone silent.  “How did you think your incompetent Lucian spies were able to know where to start looking in their efforts to locate the Magitek Production Facility?

“Just a bit more and your dearest Prompto will be one of _them_ soon.”  Ardyn chuckles.  “After all, he’s meant to become one of them.”

Is the Chancellor telling him that Prompto will have the same fate like Ravus did?  That he will turn into a daemon?

But before that happens, he will kill Ardyn. 

“Hey, Prom,” Noctis whispers Prompto, even though he’s not sure whether he’s being heard. “You gotta hold on.  I’ll be back.”

Noctis gently lays down Prompto on the cold concrete, but not before he presses a kiss on Prompto’s temple.  If he’s not being heard, he hopes he can feel him, at least.

He stands up—shoulders pulled back, head held high—and walks away to face his adversary. 

Without warning Ardyn warp-strikes him, metal blades clashing.  Neither yields to the opposing force, until they are both sent flying to the walls by the sheer amount of power that condensed between them.

“Let the games… begin,” Ardyn says, as both of them land on their feet after the sharp impact on the wall.

“No,” Noctis outright disagrees, summoning his sword.  “Now they end.”

The first few minutes of their fight is almost uneventful, that it is hard to determine who’s at advantage and who’s not.  The greatest challenge here for Noctis is that he’s fighting against someone who constantly warp-strikes like he does, disappearing only to reappear with a surprise attacks.  Losing his focus for a split second could be fatal.  And _fuck,_ his swordsmanship is simply _on point_. 

Ardyn phases like he does, effectively dodging most of Noctis’ attacks, and even if Noctis could land an attack it doesn’t make much damage on him.

In another several agonizing minutes the fight goes on, and it’s starting to take a toll on Noctis, being awake in a long stretch of hours fighting and figuring out his way through the Keep.  He knows he has to end this battle anytime soon in his favor.

He summons all the Royal Arms in the Armiger and uses each and every one of them to bombard Ardyn with a series of attacks.  Ardyn blocks some of them, but most lands upon him, inflicting damage which Noctis considers significant. 

Ardyn falls back, until he’s able to put a distance between the two of them, and that’s when more red lights surround him and red crystal specters of weapons appear, spinning around him.

Ardyn has just summoned his own Armiger.

“Oh, haven’t I told you?” Ardyn says, seeing the look of bewilderment in Noctis’ face.  “Ardyn _Lucis Caelum_ is my real name.”

Mimicking Noctis’ previous attacks, Ardyn uses all his weapons to attack Noctis.  Now, it’s Noctis’ turn to block and phase through them.  After successfully blocking the last sword, he notices that Ardyn is no longer in his field of vision.

_Fuck—_

He turns to his back, but it’s too late—Ardyn stabs him with the weapon that is apparently the _last_ in his Armiger, hitting him right on his abdomen, making him cough blood.

Noctis still has the presence of mind to warp out and get away from Ardyn as far as possible.  He draws out a bottle of an elixir and crushes it, and feels the relief of his wounds closing in just a matter of seconds.  He thinks that if he’s only a second late, he might be dead by now. 

“I thought you were a smart kid,” Ardyn says, unsummoning his own set of Royal Arms as he approaches where Noctis is kneeling, trying to recover his strength.  “But you just happen to become one of the puppets of the Astrals, a toy for their amusement!

“Trust me—you might be the Chosen King, but you’re just the _second choice_.”

Noctis is about to summon his weapon once again but in a blink of an eye, Ardyn is right in front of him, grabbing him by the neck, raising him up in the air.

“It is such a shame that you will be just like me—living the rest of his days in regret for blindly following those divine beings,” Ardyn says, before sending Noctis flying to a wall.  Noctis warps out before he meets the wall, and is able to land on his feet before collapsing once again on his knees.

“…not like you,” Noctis mutters, softly that he thinks Ardyn does not hear him.  Noctis chuckles, before repeating it. “I’m not like you—I’ll never be like you.

“’Cause I had let those Astrals know what I _fucking_ want.”

 

\----------

\----------

 

_“You are the Chosen, the True King, but none of that shall matter if you have not chosen to be the King._

_“Now, bring forth your decision, Noctis Lucis Caelum, the True King.”_

He was pretty sure that the Astrals had not given him choices to begin with. 

He did not have much of an option, did he?

But was that what the Astrals had wanted, to restrict him into a false dilemma?  Did they really want him to yield, to submit, to throw away his heart, to forget who he is?  To embrace his destiny and follow the will of the Astrals blindly?

Was _that_ the type of a King they would want to be worthy of their powers?

 _“You’re making me choose between the person I love and the world that I shall protect,”_ he told the Astral, not in order to seek confirmation—he wanted to let Bahamut know that he finally understood what he had gotten into.  Really, it had taken him a while to understand, but he did. 

 _“But this world is also his,”_ he continued, “ _And I promised him that I will make this world a better place._ ”

He withdrew his gaze for a moment, clenched his fists on his sides, but not because he hesitated to say what he was going to, but because he was rendering all his strength in saying a few words that basically defined all of what he wanted so far. 

_“I’m choosing to fulfill my promise to him—_

_“Because I’m choosing him.”_

 

\----------

\----------

 

“Funny,” Ardyn says after he actually chuckles.  “You have no idea that the Astrals do not give enough credit to the opinions of a mortal like yourself.”  He continues to walk towards Noctis, and this time, he summons his weapon.  “My revenge is soon at hand.  Oh, how long have I waited?”

Noctis thinks he’s already bought himself quite a time, but it is not enough.  If the battle goes on his chances of catching the man off-guard will continue to decrease.  He needs to think, of another way, _right now_.

Or maybe he does not need to think too hard, as he hears a _gunshot_ , and suddenly, the man in front of him staggers, though not completely falls to the floor.  But it is enough for Noctis.

It gives him the chance that he’s waiting for. 

With _all_ of his strength—he knows for sure that it is a gamble, but there’s no other way around it—he summons all the royal weapons from the Armiger once again.  Stronger, brighter blue lights filled every corner of the room.  All the weapons stab Ardyn on his chest, one after the other, and the man has completely lost his ability to deflect any of them.

After almost all royal weapons, Noctis, with his father’s sword at hand, lashes at Ardyn, delivering the final stab at his chest.  Noctis does not withdraw the sword, just holds it in place.

“Finally,” Noctis says.  “It’s over.”

Ardyn says no last words of a dying man—nothing but incoherent grumbles of some beast—as his face turns pale, eyes turning yellow against the black which replaced the white of his eyes, where black fluid is flowing from.  Slowly, he dissipates, smoke into thin air.  It may be far from the revenge he desires, but he finally gets the peace from the death he had been waiting for in the past hundred years. 

 

\----------

 

The last thing he remembers is pain.  He remembers the cold, the dehydration, getting beaten up by MTs whenever he tried to take every window of opportunity to escape as they drag him through the metal corridors of the Keep.

Prompto wakes up to the loud sound of swords clashing that is echoing throughout the room where he’s currently in.  He wakes up lying on the cold, concrete floor, instead of being bound on the contraption which held him upright since he has been brought to Gralea, with nowhere to rest his head on to get sleep at the very least.  It had been a long agonizing hours of staying awake, with aching bones and dry throat, until he passed out at some point.

The last thing he remembers is pain, and he wakes up to feel even worse. 

He opens his eyes nonetheless to see what’s going on around him.  He sees streams of red and blue lights filling the room, and he turns to his side—despite the aching muscles and bones—to see the source of the lights.  There’s Ardyn—there’s no mistaking it from the long black coat and fedora.  He’s walking towards another man.

It’s Noctis.  Even at this distance, he’s sure that the calming streaks of sparkling blue lights and crystal shards belong to him. 

From what he can tell, Noctis in kneeling on the ground, trying to get up on his feet, while Ardyn is slowly approaching him.  He’s pretty much convinced that Noctis is in no good position right now, and Prompto is furious at himself for being useless at this very moment, being unable to do anything for Noctis at such a life-and-death situation.  With no weapons nearby—his weapons were all confiscated, it is a torture for him to lie there and do nothing but watch.

But realization hits him the soonest—they had confiscated all his weapons except for _one_.

It has been so long since he did it, and he isn’t sure if he still remembers how to, or if he can even do it given the remaining strength and consciousness he has.  But he feels that it is always with him, something like an unsevered connection he has with Noctis.

He extends his arms in front of him, bringing his hands together, and takes a deep breath—though it is painful to do so, his lungs burning, he bears it nonetheless—and thinks of the familiar blue lights.

Then it appears between his hands, leaving blue sparkles in the air, his fingers perfectly fitting the grip of the oh-so familiar gun he hasn’t held in a long time.

With trembling hands he aligns the sights, aiming the gun at the man with a fedora who’s surrounded by ominous red strands of light, the exact opposite of Noctis’ color.  Aiming at an angle and position sure is difficult, the distance adds more to the challenge, not to mention his right hand is getting numb due to insufficient blood flow, but he has to deal with those as there is no time to get himself up. 

And, _damn._ He is fucking _made_ for this.

He slowly lifts his head up to aim better, focusing on the end of the barrel.  He holds his breath for a moment, then the sound of the gunfire goes off, and the gun disappears on his hand, leaving the same blue sparkles it had when it appeared.

He remembers shooting Ardyn once right on the head, at point blank, and the feeling of landing a bullet on his skull the second time around is much more _satisfying._

Though it’s different now.  He is no longer alone, because Noctis is already here.  Prompto sees him overwhelm Ardyn with a series of attacks using all weapons in the Armiger, before he delivers the finishing blow himself.

He wants to keep his eyes open, though it hurts, his whole being does—as if something is slowly eating his insides and is threatening to rip him apart at any minute now.

If he could, if he still has the strength to speak, if still has the voice, he will tell Noctis something.  Something just occurred to him now, he just realized it now.

But he lets his eyes close instead.

 

_Hey Noct.  I don’t regret everything I’ve done so far, you know?_

_‘Cause it seems like everything I do just leads me back to you._

 

\----------

 

 _I did it_ , he thinks.

It’s over.  It’s _fucking_ over.

Noctis is about to pass out, but he remembers Prompto.  He is pretty sure that the gunshot that hit Ardyn came from him.  Quite disoriented and dizzy, he looks around the room to search for him, and he sees him not too far away, lying on his side, head tilted uncomfortably to rest on the concrete. 

“Prompto!” he yells—rather, he intends to, but what came out is a hoarse mutter of his name.

Without the necessary strength to move, he stumbles on the floor, and cannot bring to get himself up on his feet.  What enabled him to crawl towards Prompto is just pure will power and determination. 

He crawls, gaining a foot at a time, and as he gets closer he sees his face clearer—it no longer has the purple color on one side of it.  It is now devoid of pain, of suffering, and peace is the only thing that can be seen in such face, that it would be a shame to interfere with it. 

_Peace._

Noctis’ blood grows cold when the foreboding thought comes across his mind.

No.

It can’t be.

“Damn it!” he curses as he tries to drag his limbs faster.  It is such a short distance between the two of them, but it feels like fucking miles away to get to him.

“Prompto…” Noctis calls out weakly.  He’s almost there.

“Prom,” he calls out once again.  He reaches for his face as he rests his own head a couple of inches away from Prompto’s.

“Hey, Prom,” he calls out again, more desperately, giving light slaps on the freckled cheeks, but he still receives no response.  “Come on, don’t be like that!”

He presses their foreheads together.  He feels his strength draining away in every second that passes, that he doesn’t even have an ounce left to let out the tears behind his eyes _._

“Please wake up,” he murmurs, repeatedly, like a mantra, closing his eyes, praying that Prompto hears him somehow.

“Please.”

His hope is about to fade together with his consciousness when he feels it—a weak blow of air against his face.

“Oh gods, Prom,” he exclaims, as if he’s ignited with a sudden influx of strength.  He lifts his head slightly to bring his cheek against Prompto’s nose, and he feels the air again on his cheek.  He places a couple of fingers on Prompto’s wrist—of the free arm he’s not lying onto—frantically searching for a pulse.  It is weak, but it is there, and somehow, it is enough for relief to wash all over him, to finally breathe the breath that he’s been holding up.

Despite the lack of sufficient strength, he tries to think of a way to get the two of them out of there, but he doesn’t have to wonder long enough as he hears the metal doors creak open.

“They’re here!” he hears a female voice yell.  He doesn’t have to worry, though, because he’s sure it’s Aranea’s.  Not long after he sees the blurred figures of Gladio, Ignis and Aranea approaching them.

“Let’s get you home,” he tells Prompto, holding his hand.

 

\----------

 

The pain is gone, but he still doesn’t have the strength to lift his heavy eyelids.  He just hears the constant noise of the airship, and some murmurs in the background he can’t quite comprehend yet.

He’s still fading in and out of consciousness.  He stays semi-conscious for a few more seconds, and he feels a pair of warm, comforting hands hold his right one and slowly lift it up, until he feels a pair of soft lips press on his wrist, just where his barcode is. 

“Didn’t I tell you?  It doesn’t change the fact that you’re a Lucian,” says a voice that is not so deep, not so husky.  He had always thought that it’s the most soothing voice he’s ever heard his entire life.

The corners of his lips curve upward, though he doubts that it goes noticeable at all.

He allows himself to drift into sleep.

 

\----------

 

Prompto opens his eyes to shut them tightly again, as the morning sun rays pierce his eyes harshly.  He has to use his left hand as a shield so he can open them once again and let them adjust in the sudden brightness—the brightness that he had missed in the past few days.  All the cold and darkness he’s dealt with now feels like a distant memory, replaced by eternally comforting warmth, though he isn’t sure how long he has been asleep.

The first thing he sees is the familiar sight of his room in the Citadel—the windows giving the best view of the sunrise, the partially-drawn back curtains.  The next thing he feels is that his right hand is intertwined with a warm one, which, when he turns his head, he discovers belonging to the raven-haired young man beside him.  Noctis is sleeping soundly lying on his side, facing him, chest rising and falling constantly, and holding on to Prompto’s hand for dear life.   

Prompto slowly turns to his side to face the King, careful not to wake him up, and he does not remove his hand from his.  It has been just a few months—maybe a bit more than a month—since he’s seen him this close, without the cold pair of blue eyes that once looked at him.  He can see the dark circles under his eyes as well as his more prominent cheekbones indicating that he’s lost some weight.   

If he could, he would stay a bit longer with Noctis this way.  If he could, he would stay with him forever and never leave his side.

He would, really.

After all, after everything that happened he realized that without Noctis, he could be complete only up to a certain degree, and the rest will forever be a void that could only be filled by no one but Noctis.  Everything will go on, his life will continue, but without Noctis it is a life that will always be incomplete.

He knows that.  That’s why he slowly removes his hand from his, and plants a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek, and gets out of the bed.

 

\----------

 

Honestly, he’s still wondering how he had found Aranea loitering around the Citadel.  She does not disclose anything aside from saying “I need to drop someone back here from Tenebrae.”

“Seems like no one’s can stop you from leaving this place, huh,” Aranea comments as she leads Prompto in the parking lot of the Citadel to the car which, apparently, she uses whenever she’s in the City. 

“Not even me?” they hear someone say, and when they both turn to look at the source they see the Queen herself approaching them.

“Luna,” Prompto says, unaware of his voice breaking as he does.  At first, he hesitates, but sooner he walks fast towards her and grabs her into an embrace, which Luna gladly returns.  He realizes he just called him casually, but he wouldn’t even bother correcting himself, not this time.

He wishes he had done this sooner, when they had saved her from the Imperial attack in Altissia, right before the royal wedding.  But back then they didn’t have the time to talk on their own, and Prompto had just lost his confidence to talk to Luna after all that happened between him and Noctis. 

Remembering all of that, all of what happened, he cannot help but let his tears and sobs out, and he feels Luna’s hug grow even tighter, silently telling him that everything’s all right now.  It is a long moment of the two of them remaining like that, and it makes Aranea’s eyes roll that she decides to wait for Prompto inside the car.

When the both of them part, Prompto laughs at how pathetic he looks in front of Luna, that he frantically wipes his tears with the back of his hand.  He has so many things to tell her, starting from thanking her for giving him the courage to talk to the Prince back when they were still kids.  Even now, twelve or so years later, she’s still the one who had given Prompto the courage to pursue what he wants. 

There are so many things he wants to tell her, yet they still don’t have the time for that.

“Are you still going to leave?”  Luna asks, and Prompto is determined to answer her truthfully.

“Luna, I’ve decided,” he says, looking at her with his tear-stained eyes.  “It may not be the best choice that I can make, but I’m taking it still.

“I’ve made my choice, so all I have to do is to wait for Noctis to make his own.”

This time, he’s not just running away.  Or maybe he’s running away, but it’s different now.  ‘Cause this time, he’s sure of what he wants.

“That’s it.  I’m sorry I have to steal him from you.”  Prompto wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and laughs awkwardly, hell, what’s more awkward than talking about such subject matter, to the wife of your beloved?

“But Prompto,” Luna replies, smiling at him.  “You cannot steal what has always been _yours_ from the very beginning.”

She pulls Prompto’s face closer by both her hands and presses a long kiss on Prompto’s cheek.

“I wish to see you again,” Luna says as she lets go of Prompto’s face, her smile unfading as she does.  Prompto hugs her once again.

“Thank you, Luna,” he says as he presses their cheeks together.

 

“Are you sure about leaving?” Aranea asks when Prompto takes his seat on the passenger’s side.

“Hell yeah I am,” Prompto answers, smiling from ear to ear. 

He is not going to be the one to come back to Noctis to be the best friend he had promised to be.  He won’t, and that’s what he wanted, and he’s sure of it this time.

 

\----------

 

It is supposed to be a good day.

It has been two days since the King had emerged victorious from the final battle with the Accursed, and the Scourge had been banished from the land of Eos for what seems like the rest of eternity.  The Crystal is no more, so is the King’s powers and the barrier surrounding all of Lucis.  But who needs them right now?  Daemons no longer appear at night, and the Empire of Niflheim has already fallen.  The surviving citizens of Niflheim are currently in the process of negotiating terms with the Royal Council of the Kingdom and the Government of Accordo in helping them establish their own government.

Many Kingsglaive and Crownsguard had lost their lives in the line of duty, in the honor of the Kingdom.  The Royal Council already held the burial ceremony for the fallen soldiers, condoled with the bereaved families, and assured them that they will be remembered throughout the history, as the heroes who sacrificed themselves to fight for the glory of the Kingdom. 

Despite the loss, everyone is generally happy, it seems.  It may be a perfect ending to the tale of King Noctis, the True King, the Chosen, the Bringer of Light.  But the King himself is not on his throne receiving gifts, nor in a parade celebrating with the people of Lucis.  He’s at the balcony of his quarters at the Citadel, staring at the horizon, feeling the chilly afternoon wind, resting his elbows at the railing. 

He may be staring too hard at the horizon so he does not notice when his father arrives.  Regis wants to know the reason why the King himself is not in the mood for celebration, so he took the initiative to go to where Noctis is.

“The celebration is happening down there, my son,” Regis says as he stands beside Noctis, mimicking his posture.  “You sure you don’t want to take part of it?”

Regis takes note of Noctis’ deep breath which serves as his response.

“I heard that Prompto has fled again,” Regis continues.  “I’m sorry about that.”

“Dad,” Noctis finally replies, turning to face his father, but keeps his gaze low and purses his lips repeatedly.  It appears that he wants to say something, but struggles to find the right words therefor.

“I—" he tries again.  This time he looks his father in the eyes.  “I love him.”

Regis is taken aback, not by the words Noctis said, but by the rare level of sincerity in Noctis’ eyes.  When was the last time he’s seen such earnestness in his son’s eyes?

“I understand, Noctis,” Regis replies.

“No, you don’t understand,” Noctis immediately retorts, shaking his head.  “I _love_ him.  Not the way I love you, or Ignis, or Gladio.  Not the way I love Luna.

“I love him like how you _loved_ Mom.”

The former King thinks that finally, everything makes sense now.

“I know, Noctis,” he insists.  “Trust me, I do.”

“You don’t understand—I am about to throw away my duties as the King, I am about to turn my back to you and to this people!”

“If anything, my son, you had just done a great deed saving the world.  I’m sure that any parent would be proud if their son had done such a marvelous act.  About you and Prompto…I know, Noctis.  Well, it’s not like I have known all this time, but…”

Regis then remembers the first time Noctis had talked about Prompto when he was still in high school.  Back then, he had simply dismissed it as his son being overly happy and eager to talk about the first friend he’s made outside the court life.  His fondness of the boy had seemed so unusual yet so genuine, so honest.  He had never thought that such feelings directly translate to the kind of love Noctis is now talking about, though in all truthfulness, he is not really surprised at all.

“Let’s just say that hearing you say all of these… it all makes sense now.”

The former King believes that he said nothing but the truth right now, yet he sees Noctis still uneasy, still unconvinced.

“Dad, I…” Noctis says, averting his eyes again before looking back up, and Regis takes note of the increasing desperation in his son’s tone.  “I don’t want to let him go.  I don’t want to lose him again.”

Regis inches closer, so he is just an arm’s length from Noctis.

“I haven’t told you this,” Noctis’ father says.  “But the day the Astrals proclaimed that you are the Chosen King, I was afraid—very afraid.  You were so young back then, and the burden of such heavy responsibility had already been bestowed upon you. 

“I only wished that somehow, you could find the happiness that your fate may not be able to grant you.”

Noctis is right—everything they’re talking about right now is no simple matter.  There are many things to worry about—the continuation of the monarch, of the Lucis bloodline.  But none of that is important, none of that is worthy of his son’s despair.

He places his right hand on Noctis’ shoulder, fixing his eyes on his.

“Follow your heart, my son,” the father says, with the proudest and realest smile he has ever given.

 

\----------

 

 True to Ignis' words, Luna is at the Citadel garden, sitting on one of the concrete benches there, with Umbra resting at her feet.  Noctis casually approaches her and sits on the vacant seat next to her.

“About your brother,” Noctis says.  “I’m sorry.”

Luna shakes her head.  “You don’t have to be,” she says.  “My brother died in honor of the Crown, and I am very much certain that he did not regret it.”

Noctis thinks of another thing to say.  There are so many things he has to say, but he just doesn’t know where to begin.

“Me and my brother,” Luna says.  “We had put our trust on you, the True King, to triumph over the darkness.  And now, seeing this peace with my own eyes still seems like an impeccable dream—a dream that I’ve always dreamed of since I was a kid, if I may say.”

“Well, it’s also thanks to you,” Noctis replies.  “If not for your help I wouldn’t have been able to face the Astrals and figure out a lot of things.”

“Have you finally figured things out?” Luna asks, slightly turning to her side to look at Noctis. 

Noctis meets her gaze, and the doesn’t withdraw it when he says, “I do, Luna.”

Well, he had always known what he wanted.  It just took him a while to gather the courage for him to admit it and stand by it.

“It certainly did take you long, didn’t it?”

“Better late than never, I guess,” he sighs, resting his back on the bench. 

“You had kept Prompto waiting— _we_ had.  You shall not make him wait any longer.”

Noctis thought that this moment is supposed to be longer, more complicated, and that he should have said more things that he had.  Like he should apologize for dragging Luna into his own indecisiveness to begin with.

But Luna doesn’t need any of that.  He should have known that Luna is Luna, and for her, there are many things that are far more important than words can convey.  

So instead, though their position is awkward, Noctis leans forward to Luna to pull her into a hug.

He doesn’t apologize.  Instead, he whispers, “Thank you, Luna. 

“Thank you.”

 

\----------

 

_Following the victory of Lucis over the Empire of Niflheim and the cure of the Starscourge, King Noctis Lucis Caelum had passed away this morning, offering his life to the Astrals who blessed such victory.  No public wake will be held as his remains are already sealed in his Royal Tomb.  Amid their condolences, Queen Lunafreya and former King Regis Lucis Caelum—_

Ignis turns off the radio, not bothering to hear the rest of it.  They’ve heard the important parts already.

“What can I say?  I am _dead_ now, so I have to go,” Noctis tells his Advisor and Shield—rather, his _former_ Advisor and Shield.  The three of them are in the garage of the Citadel where the Regalia is parked. 

“Please take care of Luna,” Noctis tells the two.

“But of course,” Ignis replies.  His injuries from the battle is getting better—his right eye has begun healing already that he could already see, though his left eye still has to be kept bandaged.  “After all we are now _her_ Advisor and Shield.”

“The _Queen’s Shield_ , huh,” Gladio says.  “Doesn’t sound bad.”

“Guys, I uh—" Noctis says, turning to face the two. “I guess I really didn’t have a proper talk with you two.  I mean, after everything that happened.”

“Are you kidding us?” Gladio retorts, walking towards Noctis and wraps an arm around his neck, bringing him into a headlock. “Don’t get all cocky thinking that we need all your cryin’ and shit.” 

Gladio presses his knuckles on Noctis’ scalp despite the struggles of the latter to get away.  The Shield chuckles in amusement and lets Noctis go with one final slap in his shoulder.

“But seriously,” Gladio says.  “You’ve gone through a lot, Noct.  It’s time you get to do what you want, and I’d say you earned it.  Now go chase that _Chocobo_.”

“You bet I will,” Noctis smirks, trying to fix his messed up hairdo.

“Kindly send our regards to Prompto,” Ignis says.  “Should anything arise, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

“I will,” Noctis replies, opening the door to the drivers’ seat of the Regalia.  “Though I bet he’ll be happy if you guys will drop by and see him some time.”

“Cut it out, you mama’s boy,” Gladio says.  He gets a scowl from Noctis in return. 

“I must say, we’re really happy for you, Noct,” Ignis says, though he must admit, he is quite saddened by the fact that Noctis is leaving.  He and Gladio devoted almost their whole life watching as the brat of a prince slowly turned into a fine ruler of the Kingdom.  Now, not only they’re about to lose a great King, but they’re about to let go of a brother, a friend, the center around which their lives once revolved.  It will be difficult for them at first, they know it, but nothing beats the fact that Noctis—who had given up his whole life in being the Prince, the King—will finally get a shot to pursue the happiness that he deserves.  It makes him proud, in a way, that Noctis finally learned how to stand up for himself.

“Thank you,” Noctis replies, smiling the smile that he’s not had for a long time.  “Really, thank you guys for everything.”

Noctis sits on the driver’s seat and starts the engine, whose low purr he sure missed.  He puts the top of the Regalia and mentally notes to himself to take it down when he reaches the Crown City Checkpoint.  He rolls down the window, waves a final goodbye to his two closest friends, and drives away.

“I suppose we now have a _runaway_ king,” Gladio tells Ignis as they watch the car disappear through the back gate of the Citadel.

“Indeed,” Ignis agrees.

 

\----------

 

_Following the victory of Lucis over the Empire of Niflheim and the cure of the Starscourge, King Noctis Lucis Caelum had passed away this morning, offering his life—_

Prompto has heard it a couple of times now, but no matter how many times he had, he still cannot believe that Noctis had _passed_ away.

Noctis is _dead?_

How could that possibly be?  As far as he knew, Noctis is absolutely fine when he had left him in the Citadel.  Then all of a sudden, he’s dead?  How could that happen?

If that’s true, then what’s the point of everything Prompto’s done until now?  Is everything for _nothing_? 

Before he’s left the Hammerhead he tried calling Ignis, but the Advisor does not answer his phone.  He sent him messages—lots of them—hoping that he will be able to read it one way or another.  He tells himself not to cry before he hears the truth from Ignis, from Gladio, or even from Luna.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, so he pulls over beside the road.  Straddling his motorbike, he takes out his phone—when he sees Ignis’ name, he immediately swipes to answer the call.

“Ignis!  Tell me what happened!” Prompto asks frantically, his voice breaking as tears start flowing.  _Damn it_ , whatever he’s said about crying no longer holds.

“Where are you, Prompto?” instead of answering the question, Ignis asks in return.  Prompto is somehow annoyed by how Ignis’ tone remains calm and composed in such situation.

“I-I’m on my way to the Crown City Checkpoint,” Prompto answers.  “Tell me what’s going on, Ignis!”

“Just stay where you are,” Ignis instructs before cutting off the line.

“What the—” Prompto curses.  He dials Ignis number again, but the Advisor does not answer.

Should he continue driving to the City?  _Fuck,_ he doesn’t know what to do.  His hands are trembling too much for him to drive the rest of the way, anyway.  He covers his face with both his palms, keeping his head down—his tears won’t stop falling anytime soon.

When he hears a familiar sound—a low, humming sound of an engine—he looks up and sees a car approaching from the direction of the Crown City Checkpoint.  In just a few moments he recognizes the car—the Regalia with its top retracted— and he’s certain of it.  In a couple of seconds he sees who’s driving it: no other than _King Noctis Lucis Caelum_ himself.

Noctis pulls over a few feet away from Prompto, at the opposite side of the road.  He switches off the engine before he gets off the driver’s seat, wearing _that_ smile—that satisfied smile he has whenever he wins or gets something he wants.

“You _fucking_ idiot!?” Prompto says, bewildered, in utter disbelief of what he’s seeing right now before him.  He just gets the smug on Noctis’ face as a response, while walking towards him.

“What are you doing?”

“Doing my part of the deal,” Noctis says, standing in front of Prompto at less than an arm’s length. “Coming to see you.”

Prompto, taken aback as he is, has his mouth agape for a few moments.  Damn, how happy is he just by hearing that, but he needs to ask Noctis some more questions.

“And…?  Why does the whole Eos thinks that you’re dead?” he finally asks.

“Uh, because I made them think so?”

“Noct! I—I can’t believe—you’ve just ditched your duties as the King!” Is Noctis telling him he has left Insomnia _for good?_ Did Noctis just do that for him?

“Come on,” Noctis says, taking a step closer to Prompto—although they are already very close to each other—both hands reaching to hold his.  He locks their gazes, smiles at Prompto, and Prompto notes how his heart skips a beat at that exact moment.  “You made your choice, and I did mine.  I’ll call it quits.”

Noctis just basically threw away his name, his crown, his life to choose _him_.  He’s literally thrown away everything for _him_.  Prompto wants to protest, but he doesn’t know how to start.  Noctis had given up everything for him, and he knows all too well that he doesn’t have anything to give him in return.

Does Prompto deserve that?  He isn’t sure—maybe he does, or probably he doesn’t.  But he decides not to tell Noctis any of that, because he doesn’t want to question Noctis’ choices any further.

He just wants to believe in Noctis, and he will.

He just wants to believe in Noctis, whose eyes is silently begging for him not to reject him, whose trembling hands are intertwined with his.

“You’re eyes are swollen,” Noctis comments.  In such an almost non-existent distance between their faces, he can see pretty much everything.

“Whose fault do you think is that?” Prompto replies, subtly pouting, and Noctis finds it nothing but endearing.

“Yeah, I know,” Noctis murmurs as he plants a lingering kiss on Prompto’s swollen eye.  He regretfully lets go of Prompto’s hands to wrap his arms around him—an arm across his shoulders, the other snaking around his waist—pressing their bodies together, Prompto’s built yet relatively slender frame fitting perfectly against his arms, just as he remembers.  Of course, Prompto is more than pleased to return the embrace.

“I missed you,” Noctis says at Prompto’s ear, but instead of a complacent tone he has before, this time, he sounded more sincere, with a hint of desperation, of longing.  “Missed you so much, Prom.”

“Me too, you dork,” Prompto mumbles, quite muffled by Noctis’ shoulder.

Noctis partially breaks the embrace to hold Prompto’s face between his palms, bringing their faces together and brushing away some stray blonde locks.  Then he finally closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together, noses bump, breaths hitch.  _Gods,_ he missed this feeling—he had waited for so long to feel this again.

He brings a thumb on Prompto’s chin, making him part his lips so when Noctis kisses him again, their open mouths fit better, their tongues finding one another.  Noctis puts back an arm around Prompto’s waist, which goes lower down to his hips, pulling him closer to him.  Prompto, meanwhile, wraps both his arms around Noctis’ neck, running his fingers through his raven hair.

Prompto tilts his head to his side, enabling Noctis to deepen the kiss, which Noctis does, causing Prompto to make a sound from the back of his throat.

Oh how Noctis missed that sound.

They continue for a few more moments, Noctis’ both hands now fumbling Prompto’s back, occasionally dipping low, way lower than the small of his back.  Their bodies are getting hotter—and they know that it’s not just because of the scorching heat with the sun high above them—and their pants are getting tighter as their groins are pressed together.  They are both aware that this is getting dangerous, but neither is willing to stop.

They only part when the need to actually _breathe_ arises.  Nonetheless, they keep their foreheads pressed together, ragged breaths mingling as they both laugh like idiots.  More particularly, the type of idiots who make out at the side of the road in broad daylight, absolutely neglecting the huge probability of anyone driving by.  They look absolutely ridiculous with their kiss-swollen wet lips and overly flushed faces.

Noctis tugs Prompto into an embrace once again, already missing the warmth from him.  Prompto wraps his arms around him as well.

“I love you, Prom,” Noctis whispers, and he feels Prompto tensed a bit in his arms.  “What?” Noctis asks as he brings his face in front of Prompto’s, not entirely breaking the embrace, though.

“Well, it’s like the first time I heard it from you!” Prompto says, obviously averting his eyes from Noctis in embarrassment.

“Not like you’ve said it before, too?” Noctis retorts, realizing that neither of them actually blurted out such simple words before. 

“Didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.”

Noctis sees Prompto’s brows furrow, as if he’s digging through the memories of the past.

“It’s not like it matters anymore, you nerd,” Noctis tells him, making Prompto look him in the eye once more.

“I love you,” Noctis says it again.  He doesn’t know why, but now he feels very free to tell Prompto those very words that he was once afraid of telling him. 

Prompto chuckles before saying, “I love you too, you dork.”

Noctis presses their lips once again, but he tries his best not to make it _dangerously_ long. 

“Come on,” Noctis murmurs when they part, and immediately heads over to the driver’s seat of the Regalia.  He opens the door and turns to Prompto, who he sees still standing on the same spot.

“What are you waiting for?” Noctis asks, gesturing for Prompto to come over to the Regalia.  Prompto smiles, as he makes his way to the passengers’ seat, feeling the familiar warm leather through his clothes.  He mentally notes to call Cindy to pick up his motorcycle later. 

Noctis starts the engine, but he does not drive right away.  He glances on his right, seeing Prompto smiling, looking back at him.  With his right hand he reaches for his face, bringing it closer to him as he plants yet another kiss on his lips.  This time, it is not as urgent, but just a tender, long press of their lips.

When Noctis begins driving, to who-knows-where, waves of nostalgia come crashing upon Prompto.  The wind blowing through their spiked hairs, the view of Noctis behind the wheel—everything takes him back from the time they’ve spent on the road, except now there’s only the two of them, except now the other one is no longer getting married to his betrothed. 

Still, they’ve got a long road ahead of them, one which is full of uncertainties, but they’ll be alright.

They are together now, and somehow, that is all that matters.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Am I the only one who heard Stand By Me play at the end while the two of them drive away from the Crown City? Oh, ok  
> 2\. There are no phoenix downs in this universe, I’m sorry  
> 3\. And Gladio drops the title *slow clap*  
> 4\. Don’t worry about Ifrit the other Astrals will deal with him themselves
> 
> GUUUYS! It's the end. Sorry this came out a bit late, coz damn this chapter's the longest!
> 
> There's still an epilogue tho, which I was thinking of posting simultaneously with the ending but I failed to finish it on time orz. Will be posting it in two days!
> 
> I would like to thank everyone who supported this fic. I am just a newbie mediocre writer, and I am super happy to have received such support from you guys. Your comments and reviews made me really happy, and It really makes me sad to think that I will no longer receive such nice messages in my inbox TT^TT
> 
> For those who had left kudos in this fic, thank you very much! I'm so happy that you liked this story ^^
> 
> Thanks for reading! ^^


	13. [Epilogue]

“Noct,” Prompto mutters as he tries to catch his breath, pupils dilated, still coming down from his _high._   He and Noctis both are.

“Mmm,” Noctis just hums, not entirely interested on what Prompto’s about to say, whatever it may be.  He’s too focused in kissing the trail from his shoulder blades up to that sensitive spot behind his ears, which elicits a suppressed moan from the blonde underneath him.  Prompto’s tossing his head back to the pillows, allowing Noctis to place more kisses on his throat as their bare chests rub.

Noctis moves his attention to Prompto’s lips which are already swollen, yet still willing to open up and accommodate his.  Prompto squirms, ‘cause _damn_ he is still hypersensitive from the previous _round_ , and here is Noctis, eager to move on to the next.  But Prompto remembers that they can’t, ‘cause they need to clean the room and _themselves,_ right _now._

Ignis told them last night that he would be coming over at noon, and there’s only a little time before that.

“Noct,” Prompto calls out once again, weakly, but Noctis is busy in lifting one of Prompto’s thighs, sliding his palm on the sweaty skin as he does so, while positioning himself between his thighs, and _oh_ the sweet friction makes their breaths hitch.  Prompto feels that they’re about ready, _again_ , and _oh fuck_ what a shame it is to stop right now.

“Ignis will be arriving soon,” Prompto finally manages to say right to Noctis’ mouth in between their kisses.

“Oh shit I forgot,” Noctis says, taking a break from the kiss, nonetheless remains hovering above Prompto.  For a moment he just looks at Prompto, how completely undone he is—lips wet with saliva, face so red, and hair sticking on his forehead—then says “I’ll tell him to drop by some other day.”  He dives once again to attack Prompto’s neck with kisses.

Prompto laughs, trying to push Noctis away.  “Noooct!  You’re unbelievable, he’s already on his way here!”

Noctis places a kiss on Promptos’ temple before rolling and lying on his back right next to him.  Likewise, Prompto kisses Noctis’ cheek before he sits up and scoots to get out of the bed.  Noctis sees the red kiss marks scattered all over Prompto’s nape down to his back and feels so proud of his work. 

When he feels that he’s completely calmed down already, he looks around the room, and it’s just as Prompto said—they need to clean the room, or better, the whole _house_.

To be more precise, it is a cabin—not like any other, though, as it is a posh one—with lots of seamless windows that stretch from the dark wooden flooring up to the high ceiling, letting the sunshine flood in during the morning, providing them with the perfect view of the crystalline lake right at their backyard. 

Yes, they live by the shore of the Vesperpool, right next to a long wooden jetty where the King of Fishing can have his fun at any time he wants. 

The cabin itself is not too big, though.  Aside from living, kitchen and dining rooms, a toilet and bath, it only has a master bedroom and another bedroom (not like they use _two_ rooms anyway).  The furnishing is also simple, except for the 50-inch tv in the living room. 

In the first few weeks of being together, they sometimes stayed at the Hidden Getaway, but most of the time they were hotel-hopping.  It’s nothing surprising, though, because both of them are not camping enthusiasts to begin with.  Back then, they did bounty hunts whenever there were available ones, considering that since there was no more daemons the number of hunts is no longer as plenty.  Without the power of the Crystal, Noctis is definitely handicapped in battles, but eventually he got the hang of it.  

One day, Ignis just picked them up and offered to drive them to Vesperpool where Gladio was waiting for them.  Along the way, Ignis asked what Noctis would think if his father were to give him a permanent residence in Lucis.  Noctis initially refused, saying he doesn’t want his father to worry about them anymore.  Ignis insisted, however, that by doing so Regis will actually be able to put his mind at ease, that it would be best for Noctis to accept the gift. 

Noctis glanced at Prompto and got a look of approval, which convinced him to agree with Ignis.  It turned out that Noctis’ agreement was not really needed, because when they got to Vesperpool the Cabin was already _there_.

Once in a while Gladio and Ignis would come over, Ignis being the most frequent visitor, once in a week or two. 

Ignis goes up to the front porch and knocks at the door.  As he does, he hears a bit of commotion from inside, Prompto saying something like “I told you, he’ll be here in a minute.”  He never would have guessed that after all this time, he’d still end up babysitting the two of them.  Maybe he’ll put up with it for another year or two. 

But little by little, he sees that Noctis did not revert to his old habits at all.  He’s still lazy, that’s a given, but he gets up a little bit early in the morning—for Ignis, yes, that’s a bloody improvement.  More than that, he sees how Noctis, in such a short time since leaving Insomnia, has developed this air of responsibility around him, like he feels more reliable.  Prompto had already affected Noctis in many ways, and Ignis thinks that this could be one of those.

He sees that the boys are also exerting effort in keeping the cabin in order, though he must say, such effort is still not up to his standards.  But at least they are not leaving everything on his hands. 

 

\----------

 

Sometimes, Prompto is scared.

It’s not like they’ve encountered any issues the past couple of months they’re living together.  In fact, everything is _perfect._

Everything is perfect to the point of making Prompto a bit scared.  There was a time when he doubts whether he’s being very selfish in letting himself indulge in such happiness, that he forgets that Noctis may not be cut out for this life that he’s chosen.  Sometimes, the feeling of uncertainty and insecurity just becomes too overwhelming for him. 

Prompto does not regret anything, that’s for sure.  But what about Noctis?  He just remembers what Cid once said about always finding reasons for regret, regardless of the choice one would take.  He just hopes that Noctis will always see reasons why he should not regret choosing Prompto.

Then suddenly, everything becomes simple, to the point that it doesn’t matter anymore whether Noctis will regret anything or not—because Prompto is sure to stay with him. 

 

It is already night, and they are watching an old feel-good movie Ignis brought when he came over at noon that day.  Noctis is lying on the couch on his back, while Prompto is tucked between him and the back of the couch, practically lying over Noctis, blonde head resting on his chest.  Noctis managed to grab the blanket from the bedroom before they become completely comfortable, so they are now lying contently with the blanket draped over them.

“Do you want to go back to Insomnia?”  Noctis asks, rubbing small circles on Prompto’s upper arm.  It is a question that’s absolutely out of the blue, so Prompto looks up to Noctis with a bewildered expression.  Does this mean Noctis is asking him to go back with him to Insomnia?

“Well, I mean,” Noctis continues, this time, he looks Prompto in the eye.  “If you still want to pursue your love of photography I will be more than willing to support you, you know?”

Prompto’s expression does not change—he’s still confused about what Noctis is saying.

“Ignis mentioned it to me some time ago.  He asked if you’re still considering being a professional photographer and stuff.  Well, I know it sucks that I keep you cooped up here away from the City because of the current situation where I can’t show up my face to anybody.”

Finally, Prompto understands.  He does not need to read between the lines, because whatever Noctis is saying just comes as it is. 

Now Prompto feels like an idiot for worrying in the first place.

Prompto breathes a sigh of relief, before giggling, laughing internally over how ridiculous he’s worried himself all this time, when Noctis has a fair share of his own worried about Prompto.

“It’s funny,” Prompto says, going back on resting his head on Noctis’ chest. “‘Cause I was just worried that I am very selfish for keeping you for myself, making you turn your back to the things that made up who you are after all these years.”

“ _Prom.”_

“I know—I know I was an idiot for thinking that.  I’m sorry.”

Noctis tucks Prompto even closer to him, pulls the blanket over his shoulders and kisses his temple.

“Don’t forget that you’ve been one of those that made me who I am,” he whispers.  “And I am not planning to turn my back on you. Ever.”

Prompto smiles again, feeling so right at how such simple words put his heart at ease. 

“How about you?” Prompto asks curiously.  “Don’t you want to go back?”

“Dunno,”  Noctis shrugs.  “Even if I do, as long as the memory of my face to the public remains fresh, there’s nothing much I can do in crowded places.

“And besides, why would I want to leave this place so soon?  With you, this place is perfect.”  And Prompto couldn’t agree more to that.

A few moments of silence come in between them and only the sound of the dumb movie can be heard.  Prompto thinks that both of them are about to sleep like that, him drowning himself to the sound of Noctis' breathing and heartbeat.

“Noct?” Prompto calls out, testing whether Noctis is already asleep or not.

“Hmm?” Noctis hums, with the sleepiness in his voice, but he’s still awake.

“Regardless of what our future decisions will be, let’s go visit the city after a few months, watcha think?  I’m sure your father and Luna will be happy to see your face.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Yeah?  Then it’s settled.”

Neither of them knows whether they’ll go back to the city or not, but for now, he’ll be enjoying his life with Noctis, here in their little cabin, in a world for just the two of them.

Because they now have the time, and there’s actually no need to rush anything. 

 

\----------

 

It took him more than a week to recover from his mortal injuries.  The memory of his body catching bullets is still fresh, that he was sure at that time that he was already a goner. 

He remembers, that during the time he was being treated in the make-shift barracks at Tenebrae, there was a pair of delicate hands holding one of his.  When he tried to open his eyes, he saw the blurred figure of Luna standing next to his cot.

He was sure he was hallucinating, though, delusional from the near-death experience.  There’s no way Luna would have come all the way from Insomnia to Tenebrae in such a crucial time of war.

Now, Nyx will be reporting for duty to the Queen.  With the war being finally over, he only sees himself protecting and serving the Queen.  Nevertheless, without the powers of the crystal the Glaives owe to the King, he is almost like a normal person, so he knows he should train even harder.  He still can’t believe, though, that Noctis had passed offering his life to the Astrals.

When he opens the doors, he sees the Queen standing by the window, looking at the view of the City.  Luna turns to him as he walks towards her before he bows.

“My condolences for the King’s passing, Your Grace,” Nyx says after he stands up.  “I’m here to report for duty as I am already fit to go back to work.”

“It’s nice to see that you have already recovered from your injuries,” Luna replies, with the smile on her face that Nyx had seen only a couple of times.

“Guess I’m just pretty stubborn.”

“You know,” Luna says, taking a few steps closer to Nyx until they’re only an arm’s length away from each other.  “I’m a widow now, and it is quite lonesome.  I would certainly be happy if you keep me company.”

“Your Grace, I don’t thi—"

Nyx does not even have the chance to protest against the misleading tone behind what Luna is implying when the Queen suddenly pulls his face and unceremoniously presses their lips together. 

Luna pulls away after a short while, and Nyx is literally _frozen._ Luna looks at him with eyes expressing her fondness for the man, but the curve of her lips says something along the lines of _I finally got you now—_ which effectively sends shivers down Nyx’s spine.  It doesn’t take long before Luna brings back her lips to Nyx’s.

Hesitantly, Nyx soon returns the kiss, closes his eyes.  _Fuck,_ he absolutely doesn’t know what he’s doing right now, but he knows the possible repercussions of doing such an act with the Queen—hell, he doesn’t have any bit of an interest to be involved with all these royalty and shit.  But he has to think about it later on, as he doesn’t want to let go of this person in his arms.  And he doubts Luna would let go of him any minute soon.

 

\----------

 

The spot where the lighthouse stands is kind of amazing, as it provides the perfect view of the sunset in the west, and of the sunrise in the east. 

He sees the color of the sky in the horizon changing—dark blue into a lighter one.  That’s when he whips out his phone from his pocket and dials a certain number. 

“Mmmn,” groans the sleepy voice on the other end of the line.  “Noct?  Where are you?”

“Here at the back of the light house,” Noctis replies.  “Come up here, quick!”

He hears Prompto mumble a protest before the line is cut off.

The cool breeze is making him shiver, making him regret not bringing an extra jacket with him.  It’s good that the sun is about to rise at any minute now.

But before that, he wishes the Prompto would hurry up.  He’s about to dial his number again, but he hears footsteps approaching from his left.  There’s Prompto, walking with his eyes partially closed, wearing Noctis’ behemoth jacket that he’s covered Prompto with as the blonde slept in the car while Noctis drove.  Noctis swears he felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of him.

“What’s the deal?” Prompto inquires, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes.  “How come you’re awake before the sun is even rises?  Not to mention you’ve driven both of us all the way here.”

Noctis reaches for Prompto, making him face the changing horizon by the railing of the cliff.  He stands behind the blonde, wrapping his arms around him and comfortably resting his chin on the other’s shoulder.  It doesn’t take long before each other’s warmth take over both of them.

“I’m thinking of showing you a view of the sunrise that I’ve bet you’ve never seen so far,” Noctis whispers on Prompto’s ear.

After a few more moments, the color of the horizon becomes lighter, until it’s tinted with yellow and orange, and finally, the golden crowns of the sun banish the darkness of the night sky. 

“Ok, you got me,” Prompto remarks, not taking his eyes off the breathtaking view, though squints a little bit through it.  “It’s pretty.”

“You won’t take a picture of it?” Noctis asks curiously, ‘cause the camera is right _there_ hanging on his chest.

“I’m still sleepy, Nooooct,” Prompto whines, leaning back heavily on Noctis.  “I don’t even have the strength to lift it.”

“Hey.  Don’t fall asleep on me,” Noctis frowns. 

He hears Prompto chuckle in response—a sound that he would never get tired of hearing. 

“As if the hike from the parking lot up here isn’t enough to wake me up,” Prompto says, looking over his shoulder right to where Noctis’ head is resting, so their noses touch.

“That’s good, then,” Noctis breathes a sigh of relief, stealing a kiss on Prompto’s cheek offered right in front of him.  Really, he wouldn’t want Prompto to sleep _now._ “Then why are you not taking a picture?”

“’Cause it’s the first time I think that a picture won’t do justice to this moment.”

Sometimes, Noctis wonders how Prompto could casually say such heartfelt words effortlessly.  He always speaks from his heart which catches Noctis off-guard most of the time. 

 _Speak from his heart_.  Maybe that’s what Noctis simply needs to do.

“Hey Prom,” Noctis says as he slightly adjusts his arms around Prompto while the blonde looks back at the horizon.

“Hmm?”

“I’m just an ordinary man now.  I—I don’t have a crown, a kingdom nor riches to offer you. 

“But…

Noctis momentarily withdraws an arm around Prompto.  When it gets back, Prompto notices that the hand in front of him is now holding a small black box —small enough to sit on his palm—which is opened, and inside it is a shining silver band, decorated with details of what looks like silver sunflowers with small yellow gems at their centers.

“Will you stay with me forever?” Noctis asks.

“Hey Noct,” Prompto says, turning around to face Noctis, not breaking away from the arms around him.  “If you’re proposing to me—screw kneeling—at least look at me when you ask me!”

When Prompto gets a clearer view of Noctis’ face, that’s when he sees how flushed he is, trying to avert his gaze.  Prompto chuckles, before saying, “You’re a mess, dude!”

“Well,” Noctis complains.  “It’s my first time proposing!”  Really, Noctis got a point there—he may have been married once, but he did not propose to Luna.  For this purpose, he actually asked Ignis and Gladio for ideas.  Gladio, the married man, told him how he actually proposed to his fiancé-turned-wife, and Ignis, the bachelor who’s still dancing around Aranea, told him ideas straight from the books.  Noctis just said _to hell with of those ideas_.

“So what’s your answer?” Noctis asks when he thinks he’s regained some of his lost composure, bringing the ring between them.

“What’s the question again?” Prompto teases, and Noctis knows that he’s just being tricked into asking the embarrassing question again.

“Arrgh,” Noctis rolls his eyes before taking a deep breath, leaning closer to Prompto and capturing his eyes with his.

“Will you _marry_ me?”

Prompto smiles, a smile so bright that rivals the rising sun behind him.

“Hell yeah!”  Prompto answers, holding Noctis’ face between his hands, and kissing him.  But before they take the kiss any further, Noctis pulls back and takes the ring out of the box, reaches for Prompto’s left hand and places the ring—oh damn, it fits _perfectly_.

Then it’s Noctis’ turn to kiss Prompto, a kiss which drags on for a while, before Prompto turns on his camera and lifts it up to take a selfie of them.

“I thought the picture won’t do justice?” Noctis asks.

“Not anymore,” Prompto says as he pulls Noctis into another kiss, and Noctis hears the sound of the shutter.

After a while, they stand side by side to watch as the sun departs from the horizon.  Noctis laughs, over how stupid and corny he looked like with this proposal.  But seeing how that engagement ring shines on Prompto’s finger, how he feels like a teenager with butterflies on his stomach knowing that they’ll be spending the rest of their life together, he says it’s worth it.  They may have something not as grand as a royal wedding, but it doesn’t matter.

It’s supposed to be a good day.  And yes, it is.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. But I want to write a royal wedding TT__TT  
> 2\. Now you see why I don’t write smexy stuff orz  
> 3\. The Lunyx moment is because I love you guys
> 
> So yeah! I think it is kind of a good thing that I post this epilogue later than the ending, so I will be able to thank you guys once again for the wonderful feedback on the last chapter. It really made me happy to know that you liked the ending! Again, thank you so much for everyone who's stuck with this multi-chapter fic from the beginning to the end ^^
> 
> Until next time! ~ <3


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